King's Treasure
by reader1writer1
Summary: Jareth was always much more than the Goblin King. His son was always more than Harry Potter-an abused wizard child at prophecy's call. Will Sarah give them a chance or will Dumbledore and Voldemort cost him everything? It wouldn't be the first time. J/S
1. Chapter One

Snow swirled around her and the tall blond man as they walked through her neighborhood park, but Lily couldn't feel the cold. It was as if she and the king walked in a bubble, as perhaps they did. She fought down awe and nervousness and trained her ears on the words he was saying, valiantly ignoring the magic dancing up and down her hand and arm where held it against his own.

"You've chosen which suitor will claim you, then?"

"_Which_ suitor?" she questioned, surprised. "I'm not sure what you mean? I only have one—James Potter."

"And what of the young Severus Snape?"

"He-he called me a horrible name! He's joining the Death Eaters if he hasn't already!" Lily gasped, stopping in her tracks and looking up at the stately monarch. One shapely, multi-shaded brow rose as he looked down to consider her, expression blandly questioning.

"One reckless word during a supremely stressful incident is all it takes for you to forget a childhood of close friendship and support?" He didn't appear judgmental, but somehow Lily felt she'd disappointed him greatly.

"I-When you put it like that, I suppose…well, maybe I've overreacted," she sighed. Turning back to the path she began to walk again, as did he, arms still linked. "I'll speak with him, Sire, but I've grown close to James. If he asks, I will most likely accept."

He nodded regally as if she'd agreed to a favor. "The young Snape descends from my father's sister's line. Her son was only ever called "The Prince". I would have my family come together again in my heir, when the time comes. The line of your other suitor, Mr. Potter, originates from my father's younger brother, Mathrafal, who moved aboveground to begin his kingdom, which he called Powys. Ultimately, the name became Potter, as it is today. The hair should have given it away," he teased.

"Powys? The county in Wales?"

"Ahh, but it used to be a kingdom, small though it was. Still, it was _his_ kingdom, and Uncle was quite proud of it. His pride cost him dearly, however, when he succumbed to a plague, already weak from a spat with the warlord Vortigern. He apparently chose one of the man's daughters as consort, without gaining proper permission. He was always more highhanded than he had a right to be. Nonetheless, that is where the Potter family originated as a magical house."

Fascinated, she listened raptly as he talked about his family—something she was sure he did not often do. And to think, she not only descended from one side of his family, but would most likely be marrying into the other.

He aimed a knowing smile at her and patted her gloved hand with his own. "You already know that your mother is from the line of my own mother's twin Tritonia who had such an obsession with flowers that all of her daughters are named for them," he said dryly, no doubt laughing at her childish love of the family fairy tale.

She knew the history, of course, but it was still amazing and exciting to be descended from fairy queens and princesses. And now, to be walking arm and arm with His Majesty, the Goblin King himself! Who wouldn't be bowled over?

When his demeanor became serious, Lily couldn't help the chill of unease that crawled up her spine. While her mother had known the monarch most of her life, Lily had only met him after she'd received her Hogwarts letter, though she'd always had the feeling of being watched over. He would only ever appear to those that directly asked for him or his goblins' intervention, or to family members with some gift of the fae. Her mother had a touch, though not enough to perform spells. As her father was the son of a squib, it was no surprise that her parents were so excited when she proved to be magical.

"Is-is there something wrong, Sire?" she queried finally, when he stopped their stroll and turned to look at her.

The king released a steady breath through is nose, as if tempering a great annoyance. "Due to their longstanding "feud"," he clipped, obviously angered by said feud, "both of the two young men I mentioned have rendered each other sterile. As a result, the child will therefore contain more of my genetic input and much less from your mate." With a shake of his head, he released his anger and directed Lily to a stone bench, just off the snowy path. "The child will need to spend time Underground and I will need to teach him many things before he is much more than a toddler. Otherwise, his magics will be uncontrollable and he will suffer greatly. You will have to inform your spouse early on, preferably in advance of the marriage."

Lily attempted to process this information, while she considered the possible ramifications of his news. "So sure it will be boy, are you? I must ask, though, why you don't choose to do it the old fashioned way, Your Majesty, if you don't find the question horribly impertinent."

"I do," he said shortly, looking down his elegant nose at her, but softened his answer with a mild half smile. "I suppose, however, that if anyone has a right to ask, it would be you." He turned a little, scooting away, so that he was nearly facing her. As he looked off into the middle distance over her shoulder, he opened a palm, creating three crystals that he began to manipulate in a slow circle. "While I have met the woman whom I believe to be my mate, she is much too young at present. She may, eventually, call upon me again, and if she does, or our paths cross somehow, perhaps something will come of it. I find I cannot do other than wait for her." A fleeting ripple of pain moved in his eyes, gone within an instant. "Unfortunately, the good people grow restive now, this moment, as the heir to the High Throne is without issue. Should my parents suffer illness or become weary or should any other sort of drama unfold, there would be no one to take over my rule so that can I ascend. The Underground is too diverse and far reaching for one monarch alone. Before my ascension to the goblin throne and my victory over the Labyrinth, the two were ruled separately and war was prevalent in the region. Even if my heir—the royal firstborn is always male," he said with a smirk. "Even should he remain a prince ten millennia or more, our people need an heir."

"My son would live _that_ long?" she gasped. Ten millennia…it was unimaginable.

"Much longer than that, little flower. You should remember that time is much different Underground. Any heir of my lineage will age slowly in general, and even more so when he reaches adolescence. For those such as yourself and both of your young men, the years will slow after your majority, and you shall outlive many of your peers by two or three lifetimes, and longer still should you choose to move your family Underground at any time."

Stunned, Lily watched the mesmerizing motion of the three glass balls as they turned in the king's hand. When he'd approached her and her parents last year, she'd been honored and stunned. His request to Lily that she consider carrying the heir to his throne in the form of her first child when she married was no small thing. In light of that and all the possible ramifications, Lily had thought it over for her entire first term of school.

Though she had only just started dating James at that time, she had agreed to his request. Whether she married or didn't, Lily would provide the king his heir. It meant too much to her, her family and the people of the Underground not to do this. She wanted to be a part of something so significant. Having her son be that important also, well, what more could a mother want for her child? The small crush she'd long nursed for the baby's would-be father simply meant that she wouldn't object strenuously if he _did_ choose to go about it the old-fashioned way. From the sound of things, however, it was apparent that he had found someone who could resist his fae allure but who had cast her own spell on him.

_C'est la vie_!

Having the king donate his seed to her future husband would be for the best. Magic was wonderful, truly. Now, if only she could get James to agree…assuming he actually wanted to marry her. Considering that he was already talking about it, she didn't think that would be an issue.

The sound of a throat clearing brought her eyes back to the man seated with her. She felt her face flush at his smug smirk. No doubt he knew all of her thoughts, including the crush.

"I'm sorry, Sire," she murmured. "I was wool-gathering…"

She felt her blush deepen as his smile widened. "Certainly," he agreed, forcing his face into the picture of bland understanding. "I would ask you, my dear, to reconcile with Mr. Snape, prior to the birth of our child. In fact, prior to his conception would be better," he added.

"I-I will, Sire, of course. But what has that to do with the child, if he's not Sev's?"

The motion of the crystals intensified, pale winter light reflecting off of the crystal spheres as they flowed from one hand to the other while the king looked out into the snowy park. "You live in turbulent times here Aboveground. I would have the boy cared for by one of our kin when I can't be with him. The people around him _must _have magic." He turned to look intently at her, as if imprinting the thought into her head. "He will need to spend time both Aboveground and Underground, equally, by the time he is four of your years. His maturation will be slightly quicker than that of a human child, but he will age similarly or slightly more slowly. If he does not have balance, his magic will lash out. You, Mr. Potter, or Mr. Snape, will know instinctively how to care for him. The care of our young is born into us, specific to each family. Your spouse must agree to this or other arrangements will be made."

Lily shivered under his forceful gaze, the power flaring around her as he literally punctuated his statement. She nodded dumbly, no sure if he meant he'd find someone else or simply dismiss the aforementioned spouse. Neither would be necessary. She'd made her commitment and she would follow it through.


	2. Chapter Two

"He has your eyes," Lily murmured, looking proudly on as Jareth cuddled and inspected his newly born heir.

"He has both of our eyes," Jareth responded with a smug grin. He couldn't help himself. Even had he not already been certain, the bright green eye coupled with the blue eye whose pupil was slightly distended proved it. Nobody else, save Jareth's own father, had eyes like that. This child was _his_.

"Well, he has _my_ hair," James Potter pointed out petulantly.

Jareth somehow managed to keep his expression curious, rather than triumphant as he combed his fingers through the tuft of blood red hair atop the babe's head. "Has he?" he asked innocently as the light picked out the wine colored strands against the pale fingers of his temporarily ungloved hand. He would not wear gloves to touch his own son—the child needed to feel his father's magic around him.

The hair on the baby's head might look black or even dark brown from a distance, but the inky dark silk was most definitely red. Jareth knew that, as the boy aged and his hair grew, it might lighten somewhat at the ends, just as his own hair had done. He wouldn't mention it now, though. It would provide much entertainment later, simply by touching it and glancing at the other man, the so-called "other father".

After their marriage, Lily and her annoying husband had spent what amounted to three years in the Underground, though Potter had returned to the Above periodically, during some of that time. Eight months had come and gone before the couple was ready to begin trying to conceive. The fact of Potter's sterility combined with the low birth rate among the fae, Lily included, meant that it was an additional two years Underground-time before conception.

Worse than the waiting before the conception, and possibly after, in Jareth's opinion, was ferrying Lily's husband to work and home every thirty six days, which was the passage of time per single day Above. Thankfully, he only did it for what amounted to two weeks Aboveground time, but still, the man had annoyed Jareth no end. Having him close at hand was irritating. Having to transfer his seed to him and then provide transport as well...that was almost an insult.

A furtive movement at the door drew both Jareth's and James' attention.

"Snape," James all but spat, eyes narrowed.

"Surely you can be polite to our son's godfather?" Jareth murmured mildly, not glancing up.

"Godfather!" James exploded. "I'll be damned if I name _him_ godfather!"

Slowly moving to his feet, Jareth drew his newborn son close against his chest, dropping his dark feathered cape around the child as he let his power flow.

"Indeed you shall," he growled, his anger filling the room, touching everyone save the babe in his arms.

James dropped to his knees as Lily struggled to sit up. Before she could say anything, James began to crawl forward toward Jareth, spewing apologies as he approached.

"I'm sorry Your Majesty, I didn't mean it! I…"

"Were you not informed of the fact that Severus Snape _must_ be this child's godparent?" Jareth demanded in clipped tones, freezing the wizard's body in place so that he could crawl no closer. He retained full control over his head, however, in order to answer Jareth quickly.

"Yes, Sire, Lily told me…" At a glance up toward Jareth's stormy gaze and arched brow, he added, "You also told me, Your Majesty." After a brief pause, he blurted, "It's just that I wanted Sirius to be his godfather!"

"And you thought you could…what? Fool me? Lie to me and pretend to play along?" Jareth snarled. "You care so little for your child's wellbeing that you treat it as a prize to be gifted to whomever wins your favor?"

"Sirius is my best friend," he whined. "Besides, that death eater scum can't possibly be good enough for _my_ son," James barked, looking at Snape.

"I'm beginning to believe that _you_ are most definitely not good enough for any son of mine," Jareth said calmly, waving a hand to release James. Turning to Lily, he began, "Lily, I shall return for you in…"

"No! Wait! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Sire, please!" James begged, apparently beginning to appreciate the position he was in. "Sirius can be Snape's backup. I'll be nice! Sire! Your Majesty, please!" He crawled forward and then dove toward Jareth's knees, wrapping both arms around Jareth's legs, tears streaming down his face as sobs wracked his body. "Don't take them, please, don't take them," he implored between gasps and sobs.

Jareth rolled his eyes in disgust. He could only imagine the various fluids collecting on his dragon hide breeches. Thankfully, they were quite thick.

After studying the repentant, crying man for several long minutes, Jareth glanced at Lily, who seemed to be holding her breath. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Severus Snape had dropped to one knee just inside the door and was tightly clutching what appeared to be a bouquet of pale yellow calla lilies with plumeria and a stuffed owl.

"Rise, gentlemen," he ordered, lowering his squirming son to the bed and into the arms of the infant's greatly relieved mother. Turning back to James, he curled a lip in distaste. "I will suffer no more of your tantrums. I owe you no courtesy and yet, I have afforded you many. This is your last warning."

"Yes, Sire," James sniffed, swiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands like a chastened toddler. "My-my apologies, Snape," he choked out, somehow managing to look subdued and defiant at the same time. When Jareth arched an expectant brow to him, James flushed, dropping his eyes and shooting Snape a quick glance. "C-come in. Come meet our son," he mumbled, stepping aside and moving around the bed to Lily's far side.

Severus stepped forward warily. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," he said with a bow to Jareth. "Congratulations, Lily, Potter," he said with a nod. Turning back to Lily, he carefully laid the stuffed toy on the bed next to the baby and quickly conjured a vase, moving to place the flowers into it.

"Wait, Sev, wait! Take the baby and let me smell the flowers!" Lily cried, stopping Severus before he could put the flowers in water.

For one moment, Severus froze like a deer in shining light. Jareth bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Severus plucked the baby from under James' reaching hands, handing Lily the flowers, and then froze again when he realized he was holding a baby, unsure of what to do next. Moments later, he had adjusted the shifting bundle, eyes transfixed on the child as if he'd never seen anything so precious and awe inspiring.

"What will you call him?" he asked absently as he stroked the baby's soft cheek.

"Iarfhlaith?" Jareth queried, brow arched as he looked to Lily for verification. He pronounced the Celtic-Gaelic name as YAR-lah.

"James," a pouting voice insisted from the corner on the far side of Lily's bed.

"Iarfhlaith James, then," Lily agreed, accepting the baby back from Severus. "Hello little Iarfhlaith," she crooned.

"I'll probably just call him Harry," James mumbled sulkily.

Jareth glared at the other man. "Tell me again why you married that one?"

"If he keeps his mouth closed for awhile, maybe I'll remember," Lily answered, anger tightening her voice.

Severus quickly busied himself with the flowers. While he seemed completely immersed in his task, Jareth could see him smirk from behind the bouquet.


	3. Chapter Three

**AN: **I realize I've forgotten the standard disclaimer. Here you go: This is a work of fiction written for entertainment purposes. The first, second, third, and all future chapters are not intended for profit and acknowledge the original authors of Labyrinth- both book and movie, as well as the author and owners of rights to Harry Potter, also books and movies. And of course, a nod to William Shakespeare for naming the fairy monarchs.

Um, if I left something out—this is all in fun, no money, nowhere.

Chapter Three:

"Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus, I need you!" Sarah Williams called into the full-length mirror at the end of the hall.

The mirror was mounted on the hall closet door, but that shouldn't matter. Any mirror she called into should serve as a portal for her lifelong friends. They were certainly taking their time today, however. A glance at the clock told her that five minutes had already passed and not even a peep.

With a shrug, Sarah moved into her new apartment's little kitchen—no, it was called a flat in this part of Nova Scotia. From the window over her sink, Sarah could see the spot in the distance that was Prince Edward Island.

The Isle of Princess Amelia was a much smaller mirror to its brother Prince Edward Island, but lovely, nonetheless. The island floated in the Gulf of St. Lawrence almost equidistant between the coasts of Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island. There was a respectable population, though. Enough so that a pre-school had been added and Sarah would finish out her teaching degree specializing in pre-school and kindergarten education here. If she liked the school and the island well enough, perhaps she would stay after graduation. It was only a fourteen hour drive from Halifax to her parent's house. Piece of cake.

"Sawa! Sawa home?"

"Sarah, are ya in here?"

There was no mistaking Hoggle's voice any more than there was a possibility of mistaking Ludo's distinctive style of speech.

"In here, guys!" Sarah called, moving into her small living room.

"Sawa!" Ludo shouted, lifting her in a hug. Somehow he said more when just saying her name than most people did in ten minutes of conversation.

With no further ado, Sarah turned and wrapped her arms around Hoggle. She was tempted to kiss his cheek, but it seemed to upset him greatly, so she satisfied herself by pressing her cheek tightly against his.

"I've missed you both so much," she said with a little sniff. "Where's Sir Didymus? Isn't he coming?"

"I imagine he's all caught in that mess around the castle," Hoggle explained, stopping to pick up an empty mug. "If'n ya gots tea, Sarah, I'd about kill for some."

"Mess around the castle?" she queried, carefully avoiding mentioning the king. She wanted to know about him, but would not ask. Nope. She certainly wouldn't.

Quickly, she began to pour tea for her friends, glad that she'd made such a large pot full.

"BAY-bee. He pwetty," Ludo sighed happily, explaining nothing. "Sugar rock, Sawa. Lots."

"Three for me and cream," Hoggle informed her.

Having stirred Ludo's tea and handed Hoggle his spoon, Sarah was in the midst of doling out cookies when she heard her third friend's voice.

"Lady Sarah? My lady?"

"In here, Sir Didymus!" Sarah met him as he came out of the short hallway and carefully gathered him close for a hug. "How are you? Where's Ambrosias?" She looked around and then gently led Sir Didymus to the small table where she'd left a cushioned ottoman that was just his size. "Hoggle mentioned something about a mess around the castle? And Ludo said there was a baby?" she prompted.

"Yes, oh yes, quite a melee, my lady. Even Their Majesties, High King Oberon and High Queen Titania are in residence this week, simply to welcome the new heir. The goblins are on their best behavior and I daresay there isn't a single chicken to be found. Ambrosias is hiding behind a hedge just now, and avoiding the chaos."

"Th-the king has an heir? He got married?" Sarah managed carefully, pouring Sir Didymus his tea. Why did that bother her so much? She _hated _the goblin king…didn't she?

"No! Course not, Sarah. We woulda told ya that!" Hoggle exclaimed, nearly spilling his tea.

"A-a," what was the word? "Um…consort, then?" For some reason that thought was even more upsetting to her, even though British men and women marrying the reigning monarch were referred to the same way. "A girlfriend, I guess?"

"No, no, my lady. Nothing like that. There was no union per se with the king," Sir Didymus answered, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"So it's not really his baby then?" she asked, sounding somewhat hopeful to her own ears.

"Oh, dear me yes, the infant prince is very much his issue, Lady Sarah. I'm afraid I'm not explaining this well, am I?"

"Was magic!" Ludo announced, clapping his furry paws, or hands; Sarah was never quite sure. "Baby magic!"

"Yep," Hoggle agreed. "His Majesty is more than the Master of the Labyrinth and king of the goblins. He's heir to the high throne, too…it's a big deal, like being heir to the king of the world up here, I guess. So when too much time goes by without an heir, the people get nervous." Sarah studied their faces, trying to order all the questions bubbling in her mind. "When the king needs an heir and there ain't no queen in sight, he gets his family together and does somethin' with his magic ta make one," Hoggle stated, as if it were crystal clear.

"It's more complicated than that, milady, but essentially, that's true…"

Deciding to shelve the mechanics of the baby's birth for right now, Sarah decided to articulate one of her other concerns. "I wouldn't have though the king was…mature enough to raise a child," she ventured carefully.

"My _lady_!" Sir Didymus gasped, bolting to his feet, apparently scandalized.

Hoggle cleared his throat uneasily. "Yer goin' on how he was during yer run, ain't ya?"

"Well, of course," Sarah said with a frown. "What else do I have to go on? But isn't that enough?"

"No, it most certainly is not," Sir Didymus rapped out sharply. After a long pause, he sighed heavily and resumed his seat. He relaxed a bit, crossing his furry legs before extending his tiny mug. "For the price of another cup of tea, my lady, I shall be glad to address this with you."

His sweet smile was apology enough for the harsh tone, but Sarah had the uncomfortable suspicion that she would be the one apologizing before it was all over.

"Of course," she murmured, pouring more tea and setting the pot down when he shook his head in the negative when she proffered the sugar bowl and cream.

After a moment, he spoke. "The Labyrinth is more than an elaborate obstacle course, my dear," he began, his eyes fixed on the steaming tea cup cradled between his paws. "It is meant to be judge and jury for those who would wish away the precious life of another, most especially that of a child. The…executioner, as it were, is of course, His Majesty, King Jareth."

She felt her cheeks heat as she looked away, her gaze arrested by Hoggle who was nodding his head in agreement. "S' all showmanship, Sarah. Ta teach you whatever lesson ya need most."

Before she could respond, Sir Didymus resumed his explanation. "Simplified, but yes, Sir Hoggle is primarily correct. When His Majesty answers your wish, he gauges your needs from your thoughts and the behavior observed by the goblins when you first called upon them."

"He can read minds?" she choked out.

"When someone wishes a person away," Hoggle explained, "their thoughts are fair screamin'. It'd be hard not to read 'em right then…for a fae, anyhow."

Sir Didymus nodded and went on. "After that, the Labyrinth adapts, and the king stays in character for the duration of your run, changing his behavior only slightly depending on the lessons you learn. You, dear lady, quickly learned that you couldn't live in a fantasy world, but needed the assistance of others in your life. We were all three quite smitten with you by the time we reached the castle. Ambrosias as well."

"Sawa fwend!" Ludo agreed happily.

"So why was he so mean to Hoggle, then?"

"Well he couldn't make it _easy_, could he?" Hoggle snapped. "He _still_ scares me. He woulda done ever'thin' he said he would, including drop me in the Bog of Stench. If I was gonna help you, I was gonna have to want to, real bad."

"Perhaps, milady," Sir Didymus began gently, "His Majesty is not the one who…"

"…Who isn't quite mature enough yet?" Sarah finished, cutting the little fox off before he could complete the thought. It was bad enough that she'd said what she had, but to make him voice _that_—no, _she_ was the one with more lessons to learn. She smiled ruefully, filling the teacups and offering the cookies around once again. "I'm very lucky to have such forgiving and helpful friends to stick with me, even when I don't know what I'm talking about. Good thing I know I have lots to learn."

"Yer only twenty human years, ain't ya, Sarah? That's still pretty young, ain't it?"

"I suppose so, Hoggle, but I'm nearly twenty-one—just a few months away. Here I was thinking I was so grown up, with my own place." She laughed and raised her mug in a toast. "Here's to friends and reality checks, huh guys?"

"Sawa fwend!" Ludo proclaimed, slopping his tea liberally.

"Indeed," Sir Didymus agreed. "Indeed."

"Whatever," Hoggle grumbled. "Got anymore of them cookies, Sarah? I ain't had no lunch yet."

Handing Hoggle the cookie plate, Sarah grinned to herself. With friends like these, she would be sure to remain humble. And if they brought news of the very attractive king that she _wasn't wondering about at all, thank you_, well, so much the better.

When a glance at Sir Didymus caught a knowing smile, Sarah decided a handful of cookies just wasn't enough for poor Hoggle.

_Can they _all_ read minds?_

"You guys just talk among yourselves, okay? I think I'll bring out some sandwiches."

Hoggle opened his mouth to object, but Sir Didymus leaned toward him and mumbled something low. "Thankee, Sarah. That'd be grand," he said quickly, confusion evident on his face.

With a sigh of relief and a nod, Sarah escaped to the kitchen, ignoring the little fox's smug chuckle.

Pulling out sandwich spread and fillings Sarah sighed to herself. "Another lesson learned. Never underestimate your friends, no matter _what_ they look like. Nothing is exactly what it seems when it comes from the Labyrinth."


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I don't own Labyrinth or Harry Potter. I just own this story idea, and it's only worth something while you read it.

Chapter Four

Severus paced back and forth in front of the king; that thrice damned prophecy kept repeating itself over and over in his head…well, the part he hadheard. It was the part he _hadn't _heard that worried him the most.

"Dumbledore was looking right at me, Sire. He had his brother stop me before I even passed through the bar," Severus explained nervously.

It was no secret that he had joined the death eaters. While he wasn't proud of his moment of weakness, King Jareth had understood and accepted his repentance within moments of meeting him. Severus had sworn an oath of fealty almost immediately. There was no way he would pass up the chance to get to know a true being of power. This man had offered him family, reconciliation with his beloved Lily, and a way to redeem his self worth. It was more than he'd ever hoped for, given the sad state of his life to date.

The king had immediately transported him to the Underground and taught him occlumency as practiced by the fae. The result of several months of training, which only amounted to a few days Above, meant that Severus' mind was impenetrable to wizards. Not only that, but he'd been taught a bit of fae magic which was wand-less and undetectable. Potter could possibly learn, too, if only he would. Apparently, he was too stubborn. The fact that His Majesty disliked him almost as much as Severus did was a bonus.

"And what did that old meddler want?" the king asked as he created a crystal to roll around.

"He brought me to Hogwarts and grilled me about my intentions. He ended up saying that I should protect myself by telling the dark lord what I'd heard." Severus paused, trying to decide if he should tell the king of his suspicions.

"What is it, Severus?" The monarch's penetrating gaze was locked on him, as if looking into his very soul.

"It felt off, Sire. I only heard the first part of the prophecy, but I thought it claptrap. The headmaster, though…I got the impression that he would make sure the dark lord knew there had been a prophecy, no matter what I did," Severus finished uneasily. "I was summoned while I was still in the room with the headmaster. When I kneeled before the dark lord, he acted as if he had already known that I'd followed Dumbledore to the bar and then back to the castle."

"What did you hear?" the king asked, waving toward a high backed chair. He'd dispelled the crystal sphere and was now flicking his riding crop against his boot heel irritably.

For one moment, Severus wondered if Potter had ever been in the king's study and somehow doubted it. With a sharp shake of his head, he focused on the topic at hand. The prophecy. It felt like something he should say standing up, but to do that would be to ignore his king as well as give the foolish words weight. Accordingly, Severus sat down and closed his eyes for a moment, clutching at the arms of the chair as he ordered his thoughts and tried to remember every nuance.

"I didn't hear it all, Sire, but what I did hear went as follows: _The child of power has come, born at the death of Aurelius…Born to the house of old and new, he will end the dark…_" He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sure there was more to that second line, and even more after that, but I couldn't hear it," he confessed, ashamed. "I think someone cast a _muffulato_. Coming from that fraud, I would have thought both Dumbledore and the dark lord would have laughed the so-called prophecy off, but they didn't. I don't know why, but they didn't."

"You should know by now that most wizards are inherently lazy, Severus." The king had created a crystal to hold the moment and was floating it over to a shelf by his desk as he continued to speak. "Dumbledore will want an easy solution, such as it is, and the pretender will wait to see what his nemesis does. If the old man acts on the prophecy, it must be true; therefore the dark will be given an easy solution to winning this tug of war."

"Dumbledore asked me to join his not-so-secret order, Sire. Of course, I would have to take polyjuice potion in order to hide from Moody's augmented eye. I said I would consider it."

"Hmm," King Jareth hummed, creating another crystal to roll between his fingers. "Go to the meetings until we decide to pull you all out of there. Convince the pretender that it was his own idea that you get close to the old man. We must…"

He was cut off mid-sentence by a pounding on the door. "Your Majesty! I have a message from the lady mother! Your Ma…"

The goblin that spilled into the room when King Jareth jerked open the door shocked Severus completely. He'd expected one of the palace goblins but this was a Gringotts goblin, still dressed in the bank's uniform. The creature must be distressed indeed to lose its decorum this way.

"Yes, give me the message, Stabeye," the king barked.

"My apologies, Highness. The lady mother was most upset." The goblin hung his head, no doubt still distraught as well as embarrassed by his own behavior. "The young prince was crying," he added in a low, hopeless tone.

Severus knew for a fact that crying children were generally ignored by goblins, unless they saw some sign of abuse occurring within Gringotts' walls. Should that be the case, the guilty parent was taken into custody by the goblins and a caretaker assigned immediately to the child. Perhaps it was due to their association with the fae, but goblins had a zero-tolerance policy for child abuse of any species. All parents knew better than to so much as raise a voice to their children while visiting the bank. Still, babies cried, royal or otherwise, and Severus was quite surprised to see how upset this goblin was by the event.

"And now we see his devious plans come to light."

"Sire?" Severus ventured, nervous at the unholy glint in the fae's eyes as he read Lily's missive.

"It seems the old man wants Lily and Potter to go into hiding with my son," King Jareth murmured. "Stabeye, escort the prince and his lady mother to the castle. Have her leave a note for that husband of hers. Get someone to deliver it if you will. Don't forget to send a house elf for whatever articles they'll need. Well? Go!" The goblin nodded vigorously as he backed out of the room, bowing all the way. The king turned back to Severus and picked up where he left off. "I'll let him hide them, so long as no one tries to hide them from me," he said, pacing the path Severus had taken earlier in their conversation. "You can stay to rest and visit the healer if need be…I know how that soulless degenerate operates."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Severus nodded, not bothering to deny a pending visit to the palace healer. He had tried to hide his shaking hands, but had known at the outset it was a losing endeavor—King Jareth was too sharp by half to miss even the smallest flinch, much less shaking hands on an apprentice potions master.

"I'd like you to spend a bit of time with Iarfhlaith while you're both here."

"Of course, Sire. I had hoped to," Severus said quickly, standing when the king stopped and turned to him.

"Good, now leave me. I have other matters to attend."

Sketching a half-bow on the way out the door, Severus hurried away. He had at least a week and maybe longer in the Underground before he need even think about the dark lord or Dumbledore. Sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to stay here and never leave. But then he'd remember that he was more human than fae and had to stay Aboveground for awhile still. As long as Lily and his godson needed to stay there, he wouldn't be alone, even if he had to suffer Potter as well.

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"No, I'm not telling anyone when we change secret keepers!" James declared, slamming a fist on the table. "I'm gonna show that bloody fairy that I can take care of my own family."

Sirius took a long pull from the neck of his bottle and handed it back to James. "I don't know, Jamie…I mean, my mum used to threaten us," he raised his pitch and shrilled, "If you don't behave young man, the gob…"

Diving across the table, James slapped a hand over his best friend's mouth. "Don't say his name—even _that_," he rasped. "To say his name, _in any form_, is to ask for his attention," he snapped, feeling a great deal more sober than he had moments ago. "I promise you, _that_ is something you don't want."

For all his anger and bravado, James held no illusions about who would win any contest of power between himself and the goblin king. He had been nearby when that surly dwarf had told someone, "_I'm a coward and Jareth scares me!_"

Well, James Potter was no coward, but he wasn't stupid either. It had been moments after that statement that the king himself had materialized, and very annoyed he was, too. No. Saying his name never brought anything good.

Sometimes he wondered, fleetingly, of course, but he wondered if he'd have married Lily and had little Harry if he'd truly understood about her royal sperm donor.

"In't he, like, Lily's cousin or summin'?" Sirius asked, still more than a little tipsy. "I mean, he helped you guys have Harry. That's where they are now, right? Visitin' him?"

"She and the baby go to stay with him in his palace most weekends. You should see Harry chasin' those chickens all around," he chuckled. "The floo connects straight into Director Ragnoc's office in Gringotts. S'pretty brill, really. An' it's not like I was gonna stay in the house all 'round the clock, myself. So I guess it's all right that she goes down there sometimes," James said, taking another long drink from the bottle. There was that burn he liked so well. He'd lost if for a moment, but now he felt better again. What was he talking about? "Oh, yeah, they can't stay there all'a time. Harry's too young, even if he is the prince."

"You gotta love that, Jamie. Your son, prince over a half a kingdom and heir to the throne over the whole thing. You just really gotta love that, brother."

"Yeah. I guess so. His birthday is a national holiday there You shoulda seen the crowds and pressies. If only that blond ponce would keep his nose out, it'd all be grand," James agreed.

"So you wanna do it the night they come back? I mean, they'll be tired, right? We could get Petey over then and change it. Lily'll sleep right through it," Sirius suggested.

"Naw, that won't work. Time's different down there. She'll be all rested. They both will." James considered his options for a few moments. "We'll do it the Wednesday before Halloween, next week. They can't go down to visit for the weekend and week before and the weekend of Halloween 'cuz it's one of the Lab'rinth's busiest times. Apparently American muggles go a little crazy 'round then."

"So Lily'll be all busy runnin' about after the little nipper and they'll both be cranky and tired, huh?"

"Yep," James agreed in satisfaction. "You think we should tell Dumbledore about the switch?"

"Dunno," Sirius slurred. "Le's talk about it tamarra. 'M right pissed…" With that, Siris' face dropped to the table with an odd wet splat.

James considered moving him and shrugged. He was more than half gone himself. A long look up the stairs told him he wouldn't be making that trip tonight. With a concentrated heave, he levered himself out of his chair, grabbing the mostly empty whiskey bottle on the way by as he staggered toward the couch. Sirius was on his own. This was his house, after all. They could finalize the change in secret keepers tomorrow—sometime after he found the hangover potion.


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I STILL don't own Labyrinth or Harry Potter. If you recognize a character from somewhere, it's either mine or from history, which I delve into sometimes just to line things up nicely, because I like that sort of thing.

a/n: Thanks very much to those who have placed this story on alert or favorite. That's an excellent review all by itself.

Chapter Five

Jareth looked up from feeding the little boy on his lap to regard the child's mother. Lily was dragging her fork through her food in a desolate fashion, a faraway look in her eyes.

"What vexes you on such a fine autumn morning, my lady mother?" he asked, barely catching the small hand aimed at his egg yolk, palm wide, no doubt eager for a big, sticky, colorful splash. "Try this, little love," he murmured, slipping a strip of toast into the boy's hand before returning his gaze once again to the young woman.

"Why do you hate James so?" she countered, still not looking at anything in particular.

With a sigh, Jareth pushed his plate away, snagging a second piece of toast for his mischievous son and leaned back in his chair, considering the woman and her question closely.

"I don't hate James, little flower. He irritates me exceedingly, which you know, but I don't hate him. He reminds me a great deal of my uncle and cousin, both of whom carried with them an immense feeling of entitlement along with a taste for warring that I could never understand." Absently, he readjusted his infant son, checking to make sure that he was actually eating the toast and not simply waving it around. Satisfied his son was eating, he looked across at Lily again, only to see that she was watching him in return. "I have no doubt that your husband will one day develop and mature enough to be a fine man. It is simply that, for now, he refuses to grow up." Jareth paused to conjure a washcloth and wipe the breakfast from Iarfhlaith's sticky face and hands before setting him on his wobbly feet so that he could play with one of the goblins under the table. "I sometimes feel that I pushed him to parenthood far too soon…"

"We-we were going to marry after his Auror training anyway, Sire. And we did wait. We honeymooned for almost two weeks Above and then nearly a year and a half down here…well; you know how long we waited to try for the baby, and then how long it took to conceive." Lily seemed distressed and deep in thought, weighing her words carefully before continuing the conversation. "I worry," she confessed, biting her lip. Jareth lifted a brow but said nothing, allowing her to tell him whatever she would. "He spends so much time away, and so do I, I guess. But I can't stand his anger and resentment…of you, of the situation. Sometimes, he even seems to resent Iarfhlaith. I can't go out when I'm home, but he goes to work, and he has Sirius and Peter over all the time. They drink and laugh and try to take the baby flying or whatever. I don't really know why they never have Remus along anymore, and they absolutely _swear_ by Dumbledore." She trained misty green eyes on him. "What if he's seeing other women?" With a decidedly unladylike snort, she added, "I don't know if I'm worried or jealous about that. I miss talking to women my age. I miss shopping. You must think I'm such a whiner."

"No, certainly not," Jareth smirked, amused by her statement regarding other women. An idea had occurred to him when she said she missed women her own age. It was reckless, but somehow, he couldn't resist. "I believe I have the perfect solution for your sad lack of feminine interaction, especially as regards the sport of shopping." At her skeptical look, he turned to the toddler now leaning against his boots. "Would you like to meet someone very special, my son?" he asked, lifting the boy high in his arms before pulling him close and moving to his feet. "She's someone your Daka likes very much. You can smile at her for me."

"Not Mummy?" Iarfhlaith asked, looking from Jareth to his mother.

"She's a great deal like Mummy, but a bit different. You and Mummy will like her, too, I'm sure." Jareth kissed his son and looked over at Lily, anxious to see what that young lady thought about the whole thing. She had a speculative look on her face, as if she as trying to solve an intricate puzzle.

"Daky comes?"

"Daka must stay here today, and sit on his ugly king chair and talk to boring official people. It will make me happy if you go and see this pretty lady."

"Mummy go wif?" he asked cautiously, holding his arms out for her.

Lily grinned up at Jareth as she stepped closer, taking the little boy from his arms, a wicked light of understanding in her eyes. "Mummy wouldn't miss it for the world, little prince."

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Standing outside the Prince Edward Island Emporium, Sarah was beginning to doubt the wisdom of this little weekend getaway. Everything was lovely, and she'd had this trip planned for months. The problem was that French was primarily the tongue spoken here on the PEI and she had decidedly overestimated her command of that language. She'd managed well enough yesterday, walking on the beach and enjoying solitary pursuits. There were all manner of tourists, but she was alone. Now, she only had the rest of the day to shop and it was turning into an exercise in frustration.

"Yar-la, come back here!" she heard, right before a small body impacted her legs.

"Hello there, cutie," she smiled, squatting carefully so as not to overbalance the tiny human missile. "I think your mommy wants you, doesn't she?"

"Pwetty," he breathed as if in awe, reaching one plump little hand toward her face. "Daky sayed so, too."

One bright green eye fixed on her, his other eye hidden by a sweep of the darkest wine red hair she had ever seen. "Thank you, handsome sir, but we should find your mommy, shouldn't we? Does this Daky go to my school? I teach little boys and girls a few years older than you," Sarah explained, trying to sound soothing and keep his attention so he wouldn't begin to cry. "Maybe when you get a little bigger, you can be in my preschool class, too."

She lifted him carefully, looking around for the frantic parent who'd called out a moment ago. A young woman with the same green eyes, and whose hair was just a few shades lighter than the child's, rushed up, breathless.

"Oh, thank you," the redhead panted, gratefully taking the toddler from her and efficiently buckling him into what appeared to be an upper-end, lightweight stroller. "If you can't be a good boy, you have to sit in your chair, little prince." The child pouted briefly before his attention was caught by the colorful people coming and going. Standing, the woman turned back to Sarah with a tired, puffing laugh. "I had hoped to meet…" she paused and then shrugged. "Well, I wanted to meet someone who spoke English and perhaps female enough to want to shop with another woman," she chuckled wryly. "I certainly didn't expect my son to introduce us." She held out a pale, delicate hand. "Lily Potter. Pleased to meet you."

Sarah couldn't help but smile. This woman was so open and friendly—just the qualities she liked in a friend, and she loved the slightly Irish yet very British accent. "Sarah Williams," she introduced herself, taking the offered hand in greeting. "I was just standing there thinking about how lost I felt, what with not being able to enjoy shopping much since I don't speak the language. Anyway, it's no fun all alone." She wrinkled her nose and laughed at their predicament. "Of course, now it's a case of the clueless leading the clueless, isn't it?"

"Not so," Lily said with a smug grin. "I speak enough French to shop. Just not enough to enjoy it by myself. I don't think Iarfhlaith counts in this instance."

"Well, good," Sarah said happily, reaching down to touch the little boy briefly. "I'm just glad he came to me. It's frightening what might have happened…" She trailed off when she saw Lily shaking her head "no" apologetically.

Sarah followed the other woman's eyes as Lily told her, "He was never truly in danger," looking off at an angle. She saw a stone-faced man in a long, tan coat standing some fifteen feet away. Turning her head, she spotted another, similarly dressed man, then another, all scanning the crowd before they returned their attention to the little boy in the stroller, only to repeat the process at regular intervals. "His father is a man of some importance," she said with a shrug. "When we are this far from home, he doesn't take any chances."

"Wow," Sarah said, reaching over to squeeze Lily's shoulder. "That must drive you completely batty."

Lily's laugh rang out, drawing smiles and looks from passersby and a delighted clap from her son. "You have _no_ idea," she agreed with a chuckle. "Shall we?"

After a busy few hours of shopping, Sarah and Lily were happy to collapse in a tiny, out-of-the-way little restaurant for cups of strong tea and a late lunch. Lily had fed Iarfhlaith a small meal while Sarah browsed inside a store called _Island Petwear _where she picked up a gift for Sir Didymus. Now, the little angel was sleeping.

They ordered quickly, with Lily offering a careless shrug when one of the stone-faced men intercepted the server and pressed a handful of bills into her hand. With the food order placed and the bill apparently taken care of, Lily turned to fuss over her son.

"He's very well behaved, and he speaks so well for his age," Sarah observed, watching the child sleep as Lily divested him of some of his outerwear. "That hair," she giggled as tufts of dark red sprang free of the hood he'd been wearing outside. It stood in glorious disarray all around his head, defiant of any attempt to smooth it. Even hours pressed in a hooded coat hadn't repressed it in any way.

"He gets the hair and the calm demeanor from his father," Lily said with a light laugh. "I suppose badly behaved hair is much better than a badly behaved little boy, isn't it? He has quite a memory already. I doubt he'll forget a moment of our day out. I'm sure to be hearing of it for many months. He never forgets a single word he hears."

Just then, the toddler opened sleepy eyes, looking right at Sarah. She caught her breath. Surely she was seeing things. Hadn't she seen his eyes earlier? They were green then; both of them…weren't they?

"Daky?" he asked, turning his head in search of the person in question, his eyes already drooping.

"No, little prince, we'll see him later. Shh," Lily crooned, turning back toward Sarah when the boy rolled onto his side in the buggy, snuggling his stuffed toy close. "Are you all right, Sarah?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I thought I saw…but of course, I didn't." She shook her head to clear it and focused back on Lily. A woman with a tray approached their table, and Sarah waited to respond until after the server had delivered their meals. Alone again, Sarah ventured, "For a minute there, he looked a lot like someone I knew a long time ago. Um, where did you come by the name…Yarla, right?"

"Well, that's basically it. It's spelled: I-a-r-f-h-l-a-i-t-h, but pronounced YAR-la or YAR-luf by some. It's Celtic or Gaelic…Irish, either way, I guess. A very old family name," she said with a smile, turning to her meal.

Neither woman spoke for several minutes, enjoying their food and relaxing.

Thinking about it for a few moments, Sarah was almost positive she had imagined the mismatched eyes, but still, it wouldn't hurt to double check what she could. There were some questions she wouldn't ask Lily, but surly her address would be safe enough.

Finished with her meal, she pushed her plate away and asked, "Where can I write to you? I certainly hope to keep in touch. I had such a good time, today," she gushed lightly. It was true. She really did want to keep in touch with her new friend.

"Oh, I hope you _will_ write to me. And I want your address, too," Lily insisted. "If you just address a letter to Lily Potter, care of Gringotts Bank, Kings Cross, London, N1 9AB, I'll get it right away," she promised, jotting it down on an extra napkin as she recited it. "It's going to be screened for…substances, but they won't read it."

Sarah blinked at the other woman in surprise. Screened? "Your life really _is_ complicated, isn't it?" She quickly began to write out her address on another unused paper napkin.

"Very complicated," Lily agreed. "I can't tell you just how much today has meant to me, Sarah."

"Me, too," Sarah said with a sniffle, surprised to realize how very saddened she was by the idea that she didn't know when or if she'd see her new friend again. "I _will_ see you again, won't I?" Sarah blurted, her throat tight as she leaned over to hug the other woman.

Lily had leaned forward as well, returning the hug, apparently equally distressed by the thought of parting. The chiming of a clock somewhere in the restaurant, or perhaps outside, served to punctuate the feeling of pending separation.

"I have to go back to the hotel and get my bag," Sarah managed, clearing her throat, but still holding on to Lily. For some reason, this just felt like a terribly important parting.

"We have to leave from here. There's a prearranged transport for us." Lily's voice was slightly rough, as well. "I'll write you as soon as I get home. I promise."

"Me, too," Sarah choked out. She looked down at the little sweetheart in the stroller. "Can I give him a kiss, before I go?"

"Of course."

Leaving her seat, Sarah squatted by the sleeping toddler. "Bye bye, Iarfhlaith," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his downy cheek.

Little arms came up around her neck. "Bye bye, pwetty lady. I come to your pwe-school when I get big. Pwomise."

"I hope you do, little prince," she whispered. Somehow it didn't matter that she couldn't see his eyes. No doubt the tears blurring her vision would have distorted the view.


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: This story is for fun, no profit forthcoming and none expected. Harry Potter characters and world are the property of J.K. Rowlings, Warner Bros. and Scholastic. Labyrinth characters and world are the property of Sony Pictures Entertainment and other people I don't know about—but not me.

Chapter Six

As soon as she arrived home, Sarah put the kettle on to make herself a pot of tea. It was a routine now, and one she'd treasured ever since college when her British roommate had started it their first week of classes. Even though she had a stack of mail in her pocket, she would wait and examine her cache over a strong cup of tea.

The waiting was excruciating, though. Bert, the island's mailman, had mentioned a letter with an odd seal and she had been dying to look all day long. Though somehow she'd managed to remain strong, it had been a challenge.

Everyone in her family knew that she preferred letters to phone calls, not that cellular service had much luck on the Isle of Princess Amelia. Internet service was hit-and-miss here as well. That was fine with Sarah. Her very best friends didn't even know what a telephone was, much less a computer. Funny, but now that she thought about it, Sarah realized that Lily had never even offered a phone number or email address. It was odd…But under such close guard, maybe not. After all, even her mail was screened.

Finally, Sarah settled into her favorite chair, steaming mug of tea beside her. It was Czar Nicholas today—her class of preschoolers had been very cranky.

Flipping through her letters she noted that her mother had written. It was most likely a handful of clippings and a playbill. She laid it aside without a second thought. The handmade postcard from Toby brought a laugh. He had drawn an odd figure in a skirt with long hair streaming who was standing on a green lump looking at small slashes that led to what had to be a drawing of him, Karen, and their father. On the other side he'd written: "_I miss you, come home soon. I'm goin be Shazaaaaam for Hollowen. Love Toby" _He was six this year and spelling was obviously not his greatest strength. Neither, apparently was portraiture, for that matter.

The next piece of mail was a credit card bill. She still had to pay for the trip to Prince Edward Island along with the rental car she'd used on her last trip home.

At last, Sarah came to the letter she'd saved. The envelope was thick, possibly made with cotton or even linen, with a stylized crest where the return address should have been. It was sealed with gold wax, possibly with actual gold if she didn't miss her guess. Her address had been written in an elegant hand, not calligraphy, but very classy.

"Don't be stupid, Sarah," she told herself. "Just open the letter."

Rolling her eyes at her foolishness, she slipped a finger under the edge of the envelope flap and worked it loose, slipping the letter out immediately. It was two pages of flowing script, signed at the end of the second page by Lily.

Sarah took a deep breath and laid the letter on her lap, opting for a quick sip of her tea. She didn't know why she was nervous. No doubt it was all in her head. She'd seen Lily just last week. With another fortifying sip of her very strong tea, Sarah lifted the letter and began to read:

_Dear Sarah,_

_As I write this, I've only been back at the castle for a few hours. Yes, I said __castle__. __Iarfhlaith is fast asleep after telling his father all about his amazing and exciting day at least once. _

_When you said my life was complicated, you didn't know how very right you were. I probably shouldn't be telling you all of this, but I feel I must. Perhaps it's a form of therapy for me, or perhaps a friendship as important as I believe ours to be deserves total disclosure, or as close as I can come to it. Either way, here I go._

_You said you thought my son looked like someone you'd once seen or perhaps known. It is entirely possible, depending upon whom you've met in your life, or possibly read about._

_While I am married to a lord from what is known as an ancient and noble family, he is not the man I speak of when I refer to my son's father, though I suppose he does qualify to some extent. I am called the lady mother by our people because my son really is a prince and heir to a proud and longstanding monarchy. Through a complicated process, I became pregnant with and ultimately birthed the child of my distant cousin who is a king in his own right and direct heir to an even greater throne. (they don't wear crowns, anymore, do they? So I suppose it's the throne they stand to inherit.) I agreed when I was seventeen to carry his child. He approached my parents and I prior to that and we discussed it and considered it for quite some time. Before I married my husband, he knew of my promise and spoke with His Majesty about it as well. He, as it happens, is a distant cousin of His Majesty, but on his father's side, while my mother is a niece of His Majesty's mother. I did not conceive until after my marriage, and of course you know that my son was born a year and three months ago (since we discussed it while shopping)_

_The two of us, Iarfhlaith and I, divide our time between his father's palace and another home where we live in hiding with my husband; Iarfhlaith's other father, Lord Potter. There have been death threats, you see, so we must take care. For that and other reasons, I cannot say directly which monarchy I've been referring to, or really, anything else at all about where we live. _

_And there you have it—the drama that is my life. Spending the day shopping with someone my own age was something I've missed and I happened to whine about it to His Majesty one morning at breakfast. I haven't much to complain about, really. At the time, His Highness was struggling mightily to avoid an egg yolk shower courtesy of his one year old son in an effort to remain clean for the day's royal court petitions. At the same time, he managed to feed said toddler and find a way to grant my selfish wishes. If you ever meet him, you should try to get to know him. He is exceedingly tolerant and generous most of the time. _

_If I write anymore, I will have to put a binding on it, so I'll close for now. I enjoyed our day together very much and hope that it was the beginning of a long and important friendship._

_I look forward to hearing from you soon. _

_Your friend,_

_Lily Potter_

After reading the letter twice and skimming it a third time, Sarah collapsed back against her chair. The little boy was a prince. His father was a king. And Lily…well wow. Just…Wow.

Laying the letter aside, Sarah headed into the kitchen for another cup of tea, all the while thinking things over. She could hit the library, or even make her way to the mainland to surf the net, but really, was it a good idea? She knew that roughly forty-four nations had monarchs as heads of state and she wouldn't be doing Lily any favors if she were to draw attention to any certain one. What she really wanted to do was to call on Sir Didymus or Hoggle and grill them about the king, but that wouldn't do anyone any good either. She truly didn't think Lily had anything to do with the goblin king. It certainly wouldn't help Lily_ or _ Iarfhlaith if she drew his attention to them, either. No, a better service to her friend would be to write her a letter and let her know how her week had gone, and thank her for the letter she'd put so much time and thought into.

For a fleeting moment, Sarah wondered what the goblin king was doing. She pictured him in his fine jacket and tight pants, tall boots and out-of-control blond hair, seated at breakfast with a toddler on his lap. Somehow, the toddler bore a striking resemblance to Iarfhlaith. It was all too easy to imagine, and too intriguing a picture by far. With a firm shake of her head, Sarah reached for her writing supplies and determinedly put all thoughts of His Majesty Jareth out of her head.

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If he were honest with himself, James would admit that he was having second thoughts about changing secret keeper. Mostly, he was second guessing himself about not telling the king what he was doing, if he wanted to be completely honest. Except that he didn't want to think about it at all, and he certainly had no intention of talking about it with any king. So basically, there would be no epiphany today.

What he needed to do was to claim responsibility for his own family right now. As soon as he did that, he would be in a position to inform His Imperial Pain in James' Arse just what was what from here on out. It was bad enough that he couldn't even sire a son without the king's help. No doubt that was why the royal plonker thought he couldn't do anything else without a map and written instructions.

"Peter's going to be here in a little while," Sirius announced, as if James didn't already know that. "Where is Lily?"

"She's upstairs writing to some new friend she made," James snapped.

"She can write to people down there? I thought…well, I guess if she can get there, she can write to 'em."

James huffed and moved to the sideboard, proffering the whiskey decanter to Sirius and pouring them both a drink at his nod. "Apparently, she wanted to go shopping with the girls, so _His Highness_ set it up," he spat. He sighed and brought the drinks over to the sofa, taking a seat next to Sirius. "He sent her and Harry to some island and they met someone her age. The two hit it off and now she's writing back and forth."

"Uh…wasn't that nice?" Sirius ventured nervously.

"Yeah, it was nice," James agreed bitterly, staring into his whiskey. "I just wish I could do that for her. I mean, it wasn't really a big deal, but it made her so happy. Hell, even the baby won't shut up about it. It had to be a month or so ago to them." Sirius looked at his whiskey for a moment and then back at James, finally looking away again guiltily. "What?" James snarled, running out of patience. Sirius shrugged and knocked back his drink. "Just say it, Siri. I'll try not to jump down your throat."

Sirius turned to stare at him for a moment, before talking. "You _could_ do stuff like that, Jamie. Hang up your badge for awhile and take her to Monaco or something. I mean, I think Dumbledore is a great wizard and all, but you're only staying here because _he_ says you should. Go somewhere else. You don't have to ask the king, just tell him what you're doing. Write Dumbledore after you're gone. Harry's not even out of nappies yet, not really. He's got a ways to go before he can beat any dark lords, prophecy or not." Sirius delivered his entire speech in a hesitant tone, as if he was wary of James' reaction to it. And rightfully so.

"Is that what you think I oughta do, Siri?" James asked; voice taut.

"I didn't say that, Jamie. I'm just saying it's an option," Sirius answered guardedly.

"I'm no coward Sirius," James growled. "I'm a Gryffindor, so's Lily. And by damned if Harry doesn't grow up to be a Gryffindor, too. We aren't running off with our tails between our legs just because Lily can't go shopping," he shouted. He heard the baby start to cry upstairs and lowered his voice, relieved when he heard Lily move into the next room to tend him. In a quieter voice he added, "I trust Dumbledore, Siri. And I've known him longer than I've known the king. Dumbledore took our side against Snape, remember. And the king acts like he _likes_ Snape. Dumbledore says the wizarding world _needs _Harry. So it's my job to keep him here and teach him how to do whatever it is he's supposed to do for that prophecy." James paused, finished his drink, and turned to look at Sirius. "Don't you agree?"

For many minutes, Sirius didn't respond, instead looking into his glass once again. Finally, he began to nod, eventually turning to James, a half-smile on his face. "I don't have any kids, you know, Jamie, so I don't always know what's best for 'em. I've only got you and your family. You know what they need and I'll be here the whole way, fighting by your side for whatever it is you think outta be. You're my brother and I'll be here for you."

"Thanks, Sirius," James managed, his throat suddenly tight. "You mean the world to me. I mean that."

"And tomorrow's All Hallow's," Sirius added, his voice stronger, more jovial now. "It's Devil's Day. We'll lead that dark lord on a devil's chase. He won't know which way is up. That sounds like Peter now, doesn't it?"

James grinned. "Yep! It's midnight—the very beginning of All Hallows Eve. This is the perfect time to start our counter attack. I won't even tell Lily anything's changed unless she asks." He stood when Peter came into the room. "Hi there, Petey! How about we get this show on the road?" 


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: See last chapter

Chapter Seven

"James…What have you done?"

There it was, the one thing James had been dreading. That look of hurt and accusation in Lily's tear-filled eyes. Even Harry was regarding him sadly and somewhat fearfully. This wasn't what he'd wanted at all.

"Lily, please. I just wanted to take care of you. Of my family. Please don't be mad, love."

His wife sighed heavily, seating herself on the small sofa across from him. The current conversation was taking place in James' study. It had been Dumbledore's study at one time, as this was the headmaster's family cottage. James had always felt more adult in this room—manlier. Right now, however, he felt like he'd been called before a greater authority to answer for his bad behavior.

"Just what do you think will happen when His Majesty finds out you've hidden his son and his family from him?" she asked quietly.

"I-I," he exhaled heavily. "I thought I could show him that he could trust me with you and Harry. That I can be a man and…"

"James, is that what you _really_ thought?" Lily interrupted, leaning forward slightly.

With an inarticulate growl, James flopped back into his chair. "It's like he regrets letting me marry you," he huffed. "Every time he looks at me, I feel like I don't measure up…like he's just waiting for me to screw up enough so that he can take you and Harry away from me." He knew he sounded like a big baby, but the fact remained. This was exactly how he felt.

"Oh, James," she sniffed, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. "_You_ are part of his family, too. Don't you know that? He says you remind him of his uncle and cousin—the one that started your family."

"Daky sayed Damie a fine man," Iarfhlaith piped. Wrinkling his little brow, he appeared to be searching his memory before adding, "'Cept you don't go up!"

Lily huffed out a shaky laugh. "His speech is far ahead of most little ones his age, and so is his understanding and memory. But that wasn't _exactly_ what His Majesty said. Or meant," she tacked on belatedly.

"I expect it was pretty close, though, wasn't it?" James asked with a wry smile.

"Well, yes," she murmured somewhat guiltily. Becoming serious again, Lily went on in a pleading tone, "Nobody is waiting for you to screw up, James, but you won't think for yourself at all. You just buy into whatever Dumbledore says and you fight the king every step of the way. We don't _have _to be here. You can work elsewhere."

Shooting to his feet, James gritted out accusingly, "You're asking me to run. To turn my back on my friends and walk away!"

"No!" Lily shot back, her voice raised over his as she rose to face him. "I'm asking you to put your _family_ first, _our_ family. Put _us_ ahead of whatever it is you think that old man wants. Iarfhlaith is too young to fight and he has to be here Above at least half the time. There is no reason at all, though, for keeping him in Great Britain when we _know_ that a madman is out to kill him." She glared fiercely at him, tears streaming down her strained face. "What is more important to you? That old man's opinion? Or the lives of your wife and son?" Looking at her, James could tell that the words she was saying were breaking her heart, but she wasn't finished yet. "What do you think the king would do? Do you think he would put anything or anyone at all ahead of his son's life? If you want to be a man, then do it. Work with His Majesty, not against him. This isn't a game or a contest—it's our lives."

"Mummy?" Iarfhlaith croaked in a tiny voice, tugging on his mother's skirt. With a broken sob, Lily swept the little boy into her arms and pulled him close, turning away from her husband and burying her face in her son's neck as he clung to her, crying softly in fear and confusion.

When she took a step toward the door, James snapped out of his stunned and frozen state, striding forward to wrap his arms around her from behind. "Lily. My love, my heart. Don't cry. You're right...I messed up. All I ever wanted to do was measure up to you. Measure up to the baby—to the king." James sniffled, surprised to feel tears in his eyes. "We'll go to that island where your new friend lives, okay? Would you like that? Just the three of us? We'll tell the king first thing tomorrow. All right?"

"James, I married you because I love you. You already did measure up," Lily whispered, turning into his embrace.

The three stood, huddled and sniffling just inside the entryway to the small office for countless minutes. The only sounds to be heard were Iarfhlaith's ragged hiccups and the ticking of the grandfather clock from the drawing room.

A shift in the ambient magic prickled at his skin and the back of his neck causing James to drop his arms and look around in alarm. The sound of splintering wood outside shot terror straight up his spine.

"Oh, god, love, Peter betrayed us. Run," he said urgently, keeping his voice low. "Take the baby and try to get to the floo. I'll see if I can slow them down."

"James, no! Come with us!" Lily cried, tugging at his arm. Iarfhlaith was clinging to her, his arms

wrapped tightly around her neck.

"There isn't time. Go, love. I swear I won't be a hero. I just want to distract them long enough for you to get away. Go! I love you!"

"I love you, too, James," she choked, pulling his hand to her lips before turning to run.

Whatever happened next, James would meet it like a man. This time, he really would take care of his family—or die trying.

KT KT KT KT KT

As Lily frantically scrambled up the hidden staircase, she knew her husband had just lied to her. Of course he would try to be a hero. He couldn't help himself. Iarfhlaith clutched at her like a frightened limpet, confused and no doubt terrified by her fear and the discord that had so recently taken place between her and James. She would make it better later. Right now, she just had to get out. Get away with her baby. Nothing else mattered right now.

The sound of the front door slamming into the wall echoed through the house. She could hear spell fire being exchanged below.

At the floo in Iarfhlaith's nursery, Lily scooped a handful of sparkling green powder from the bowl and tossed it at the smoldering fire. When the powder stopped just before the opening and sprinkled to the floor, she snatched another handful and tried again. Her mind just wouldn't wrap around the fact that there was some sort of barrier in front of the floo—an invisible wall was preventing anything from entering the fireplace.

Could it be that a Gringotts goblin had duped them? No, she couldn't believe that. But who?

"Avada Kedavra!" she heard, followed by the hollow, hopeless echo of a body dropping to the floor.

Only the owner of the cottage could close the floo from outside the walls of his home. "Dumbledore," she gasped, backing away from the blocked opening, sick to her stomach with the knowledge of the old man's treachery and the certainty that her husband was dead.

"Mummy?" Iarfhlaith whispered as the sound of footsteps echoed in the lower hall.

Placing her son on the floor in the corner farthest from the door, Lily kneeled in front of him, taking him by his tiny shoulders. "Mummy and Papa Jamie love you very, _very_ much, baby. And so does Daka. Don't ever forget that." She looked over her shoulder and then back to her son, her gaze boring into his mismatched eyes. Maybe she was out of her mind, but she had to try. "No matter what, don't you die. You must get back to your Daka. Promise Mummy you won't die and you'll get to your Daka as soon as you can or find Uncle Severus," she demanded desperately. Giving him a little shake, she repeated fiercely, "Promise Mummy!"

"I pwomise," Iarfhlaith swore, his childish voice thin and wavering.

He was too young to understand what he was saying, she knew, but his determination would be enough to fuel his magic. All they could do now was wait. Anti-apparition wards had gone up almost immediately and they were trapped. Standing in front of her son to block him, Lily's mind raced as she tried to cobble together some sort of plan. There had to be _something_ she could do, but when she saw the horrific _thing_ that appeared in the nursery doorway, she couldn't even think.

KT KT KT KT KT

"Well, if it isn't the mud-blood mummy," Voldemort sneered. "Standing in front of the babe like a vengeful, would-be Valkyrie. You needn't die in this battle, girl. Move away and you shall have other children." When the woman shook her head in the negative, he tried a different tack. "Your son will be memorialized as a hero, I assure you. You don't want him to watch his mother die, do you?"

She looked defiantly into his eyes and called out in a loud voice, "I invoke the souls of my long dead mothers. Accept my life as sacrifice and save our child of blood and heart. Protect the last of our noble line. This I beg you. So mote it be!" A dull glow shone around her for one moment and then faded away.

"Oh for the love of Slytherin," he gritted. "This is exactly the sort of interference I don't need right now," Voldemort grumbled to himself in frustration. "_Stupefy_!" he spat. But to his everlasting shock, the spell bounced off of her as if she carried an invisible shield of some kind. "Well, I tried," he muttered carelessly. "Avada Kadavra!"

The deadly spell struck between bright green eyes shining with acceptance, and dropped the woman to the floor instantly. Behind her stood the child, hands on his hips, his back against the wall, and rage radiating from every pore of his tiny body. Somehow Voldemort had expected fear, tears, maybe some sniveling— but anger? Hmm…well, time to get on with it.

"I guess it's your turn to die, little one," he said conversationally, raising his wand again.

"No," the little boy growled, his entire demeanor the picture of stubborn defiance. "Mummy said pwomise."

"Such a shame, but there's nothing you can do. Nothing at all," Voldemort smirked, amused by the entire exchange.

The room was well lit and Voldemort could clearly see the unholy gleam in the toddler's strange eyes as he took a step forward. "Nuf-ink? Nuf-ink, twa, wa, wa?"

"Excuse me?" But before he could make any sort of sense out of the odd words, the tiny creature raised both of his hands and a terrible, remarkable, frightening bright light exploded toward him. He barely had time to shout out, "Avada Kadavra!"

The magical blast met in mid-air and Voldemort knew one second of smug satisfaction when the child flew backward into the wall behind him. A second later the dark lord's own world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors before fading entirely to black.

**AN**: For those who haven't seen the movie, don't remember, or just can't tell because it doesn't make much sense, when Iarfhlaith said, "Nuf-ink? Nuf-ink, twa, wa, wa?", he was trying to mimic his father, King Jareth, saying "Nothing? Nothing, tra ,la, la?"

This is AU, as I'm sure you can tell. You might think I'm moving a bit slow, as I suppose I am. I don't actually have an end in sight, though it's sure to be a long and winding journey. Some events from the books and/or movies will be relevant, while others will not feature at all. I guess we'll all find out when we get there. Thanks for reading. For those that review. Thank you very much. : )


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: This story is mine. The characters belong to someone else.

Chapter Eight

Severus' eyes narrowed as the old wizard pulled out what looked like a miniature brick. "One moment," the old headmaster excused his actions. "I just realized that the floo was open in one of my homes." He mumbled a few words that Severus couldn't hear and then stashed the brick in one of his desk drawers. "Now then, Mr. Snape, where were we? Oh, yes…"

While he did his best to look attentive to the other man's ramblings, his alarm bells were fairly screaming. Something was going on and it made him decidedly uneasy. Never mind the fact that the twinkling old goat behind the desk couldn't be trusted in the first place. If his lips were moving, chances were good somebody's life was about to change, and not for the better. Like as not, some other poor clueless sod would be blamed for it.

Suddenly, the sound of a high-pitched squeal interrupted the rather one-sided conversation and brought Severus' attention back to the present. "Is something wrong, Headmaster?"

"Oh, dear, oh dear," Dumbledore murmured with an oddly satisfied expression on his face. "It looks like something has happened to the Potters." He held a glowing cube in his hand which he turned slowly. "The child lives. I'll have to send Hagrid for him right away as his godfather; Sirius Black obviously can't be trusted. He'll have to stay someplace safe until…"

"You'll do nothing of the kind," Severus growled, springing to his feet and turning toward the door. "That boy is _my_ godchild and he goes nowhere that I…"

"_Obliviate_!"

Confusion reigned as Severus tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He was in the headmaster's office, at Hogwarts. He could tell because of the obnoxious smell of lemon and sugar that permeated the air.

"Severus…Severus my boy?" Was that the headmaster? His voice sounded so far away… "You shouldn't take on so. I know you don't truly hate young Harry Potter. Of course you're distraught at the death of Lily Evans. She was a dear, sweet soul, but you were not named godfather to James Potter's son. It is such a shame that Sirius Black was named godfather, isn't it? Perhaps you should go home to tend to your grief. Try not to hate the late Mr. Potter too much or hold him and the child, Harry, responsible. Even if little Harry was the reason she was killed, and he _is _his father's son, you should try to forgive him somehow. Do be careful going home…shall I prepare you a room here for the night?"

"No," he refused, head spinning. "I'll go home. Lily gone…" he mumbled, reaching for the door. "Somebody…Harry…Hate Harry."

"Be careful, child, take it slow," Dumbledore cautioned, helping him out of the office and then closing the heavy door behind him whenSeverus reached the bottom of the moving stairs.

It wasn't until Severus tripped over a tree root on his way out of the castle's main gate that he stopped, letting the cool night air wash over him. He shook his head hard and stumbled away from the tall, iron fencing and seated himself on one of the many large rocks along the path to Hogsmeade.

As he held his aching head in his hands, two questions kept tumbling over each other, demanding answers. _Can Lily truly be dead? And who the hell is Harry?_

KT KT KT KT KT

"You have thirteen hours…"

"Sire!" a low voice hissed, interrupting Jareth's warning.

He held up a hand to quiet the speaker, aware that whatever the goblin had to say must be of vital importance to merit an interruption during this crucial time. Still, some rituals must be observed, no matter the emergency. As soon as a wisher refused his or her dreams, Jareth was bound by geas to proceed in certain ways until the runner's time was up. Thankfully, he _could_ leave the Underground for a short period of time after the clock officially started.

Jareth cleared his throat and began again. "You have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth, or your girlfriend's daughter becomes one of us…for all eternity."

When the young man squared his shoulders and turned away, Jareth faded from sight and sought the goblin who'd called to him. He had recognized the voice of Director Ragnoc and knew this was no trivial issue.

"What is it?" he demanded, materializing in the elderly goblin's office. While he'd been plagued with back-to-back runners wishing away various babies and children this past week, the passage of time Underground made it so that they never overlapped. Unfortunately, he'd had scarce little time to rest, eat, or even bathe in the interim.

"Sire," Ragnoc dropped to one knee even as he began his explanation, his voice low and grave. "Not quite half an hour ago, there was attack upon the home of the prince and the lady mother. The floo was blocked and upon arrival, we could not cross the property line." Jareth resisted the overwhelming urge to bolt from the office to verify the old goblin's words. He needed to hear him out first. "Even as our teams were breaking through the wards, an explosion occurred, knocking all of them unconscious for a time." He paused, hands shaking, obviously searching for his next words.

"Tell me," Jareth gritted, bracing for painful news.

"The lady mother and her lord husband were…they are deceased Sire. We left them as we found them. The prince was nowhere to be found. We have secured the dwelling. The remains of what could only be the dark wizard Voldemort were found in the nursery. Section Leader Axeheel states that he saw a very large man fly off on a loud, two wheeled conveyance just as he was able to sit up." He ceased speaking and bowed his head, waiting for Jareth to respond.

"Did a guard unit remain behind?" Jareth rapped out, assuming that to be the case. If not, more heads would roll. It was a given that someone would die if he didn't find his son right away.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Come."

Not willing to waste another word, Jareth tossed a crystal into the air and allowed it to dissolve over the top of Ragnoc and himself. Moments later, they were standing on the threshold of Lily and Potter's so-called "safe house". The stately elder goblin remained a few paces behind as Jareth made his way into the main room, stopping to kneel beside an overturned sofa.

The slightest bit of pressure was all it took to remove the heavy piece of furniture that had fallen on top of James Potter. For just a moment, Jareth thought that the man would get up. His head flopped lightly to the side, however, nothing more. When Jareth gently turned his head to search for a pulse, Potter's sightless eyes seemed to bore into him. Laying two fingers at his throat and looking into those once mischievous eyes, Jareth was overwhelmed by a lingering feeling of regret and remorse. No doubt those were the late Lord Potter's last emotions before death and Jareth was nearly knocked backward with the encompassing sense of loss that he felt. So much potential unrealized; so much hope, diminished just as it was beginning to bloom. Blinking the moisture from his eyes, he reached over with two fingers and gently lowered the other man's eyelids, murmuring a _sídhe_ blessing for the dead.

Rising to his feet again, Jareth made his way to the stairs, the roiling in his stomach nearly debilitating. Nonetheless, he forced himself onward, hoping against hope that he would find Lily alive and merely stunned, or perhaps that his son would be up there somewhere, frightened and hiding, or even injured, but not dead, not missing.

Upon entering the nursery, Jareth immediately spotted Lily's body as she lay upon her back, eyes wide and blank. A few feet in front of her was a mound of black fabric with one leather boot collapsed at an odd angle to one side. The air in the room smelled faintly of ozone.

Skirting around the pile of clothing, Jareth dropped to one knee beside Lily, cupping her cheek with his open palm. Her skin was barely warm—Too cool for life, but not stiff in death just yet. Once again, he whispered a blessing for another murdered member of his family. As he lifted his head to look past her, his gaze stopped on the small, chartreuse blob behind her.

Dropping his hand from Lily's face, he reached over and picked up the fuzzy green slipper that had been half the pair of Iarfhlaith's most favored footwear. Severus had spotted them while searching for an apothecary somewhere in Dunmow. They young man seemed to have a gift for finding things that would delight Iarfhlaith while irritating Potter to no end. The little fuzzy green slippers bore elongated toes with tufts of brown fluff across monster –shaped toes with shiny black toenails on the ends. Iarfhlaith loved nothing more than wearing his "gobbin feet" and showing them off to anyone who would stop long enough to appreciate them.

Except Iarfhlaith wasn't here, and he was missing one slipper. Where was the other one? Where was the child they belonged to? He would be cold, wherever he was. The very idea of it wrenched at his heart so painfully that Jareth clutched at his chest, expecting to find blood dripping down.

"I have to find out what happened. I have to find my son," he announced, his voice loud in the stillness of the room.

"Sire?"

"Quiet, Ragnoc. Move back," he ordered standing and stepping back toward the doorway. Taking hold of Ragnoc's bicep, Jareth tugged him to the side of the door, still very much inside of the room.

"Majesty, the power…It will drain you, Your Highness!"  
"Silence," Jareth snapped, turning so that his shoulder angled toward the open door, and his other shoulder lined up with the corner directly parallel with the corner nearest Lily.

Moving his hands so that they spread wide at hip level, palms up, he slowly began to raise them as if he were lifting a great weight. Power poured out of him, slowly filling the room from floor to ceiling, beginning at his fingertips and gradually spreading outward as his hands came up and over his head, palms flat, meeting as if in prayer.

As the memory bubble formed over most of the room, a shadow of Lily carrying Iarfhlaith dashed through the door, stopping in front of the fireplace. She grabbed at the shallow bowl on the mantle, and then a second time when the pale sparkling dust sprinkled to the floor as she cast it at the floo. She backed away as if in horror, staggering into a far corner with her child. Jareth saw her turn and squat in front of the little boy, taking his shoulders in her hands as she imparted some urgent knowledge or directive to him.

Suddenly, she turned again and stood, horror written on her face as she looked at the door. Following her line of sight, Jareth couldn't blame her. The creature moving into the room might have once been a man, but it was clear that too many rituals had altered his appearance irreconcilably. She blocked Iarfhlaith into the corner completely and defiantly faced the newcomer.

Her lips moved and a dull glow flashed around her seconds before the monster cast a spell at her. It was obvious to Jareth that she'd used some fae magic to provide a shield which seemed to anger the intruder. Seconds later the murderous green spell struck her and she crumbled to the floor.

The two onlookers crept closer, carefully avoiding the edges of the memory-bubble. The shadow figure of Iarfhlaith took a step forward, a nimbus of anger around him. His attacker must have said something because Jareth could make out the words _mummy_ and _promise _as the phantom child's lips moved. A second later, he found himself smirking when he made out the words his son had said before raising his hands in a burst of instinctual magic.

"Was that a spell, Sire?" Ragnoc asked in awe.

"No," Jareth murmured, eyes fixed on the tiny form. The grotesque body of Voldemort had disintegrated in the backlash of colliding magic, while Iarfhlaith had been blown backward. Fae magic would most times triumph over wizard magic though with a few notable exceptions. "No," he repeated. "The prince was merely repeating something I have been known to say when I am particularly annoyed."

Nothing stirred for long moments, and Ragnoc would have moved forward but for Jareth's restraining hand on his arm. They both turned at movement from the doorway, watching as Sirius Black rushed into the room, bending to check Lily. Anguish twisted his face as he rose, stepping around her to see about Iarfhlaith. Finding the boy apparently alive, he rose, clutching the toddler to his chest, relief softening his expression.

Suddenly, an enormous, bearded man charged into the room, reaching for Iarfhlaith in what appeared to be an attempt to take him from Black's arms. After a brief exchange, Black handed the boy over, snatching a blanket from Iarfhlaith's bed to drape over him. The two men continued to talk as they exited the room, leaving Lily's cooling body behind.

The desire to charge away, wreaking havoc until he located his son warred violently with the need to gather information. However, both urges were eclipsed by the binding magic of the Labyrinth which demanded his presence while a runner attempted to win back the wished-away child that had brought them there.

Fighting his desire for vengeance along with the enormous drain he'd placed on his magic, Jareth turned to Ragnoc. "Bring my cousins home for a state burial. Find Sirius Black along with that other man. And find my son," he growled. Ragnoc opened his mouth to respond, but Jareth cut him off. "Now, Ragnoc. Report in thirteen hours." With that, Jareth melted into his owl form and flew out the door, disappearing entirely before he reached the top of the stairs.


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

Chapter Nine

Upon entering the goblin and wish-away area, Jareth called up a crystal so that he could check on the Labyrinth's latest runner. The man had not only failed to gain entrance to the maze, but currently held the ill-tempered little dwarf, Hoggle, by the throat and appeared to be about to strike him with his pixie- spray canister.

Furious, Jareth tossed the glass ball into the air and materialized next to the man, catching his arm before he could deliver the blow. "How _dare_ you?" he hissed, letting every iota of his accumulated rage sound in his voice and echo in the magic flowing from him. The man instantly released the dwarf who stumbled and collapsed in a heap behind Jareth. Adding one powerful squeeze for good measure, Jareth pushed the man backward by the arm he still held, unrepentantly satisfied to see a bruise developing as the man cowered in the dirt, his forearm over his face. "How does it _feel_?" Jareth sneered. "Do you like being a tin god? Feared and dreaded rather than loved or even respected? I would love to drop you in an oubliette and leave you there, rotting and unlamented while you go mad from hunger in the unrelenting solitude for threatening one of my subjects. I should do exactly that if only to spare the child who is even now recovering from your guardianship in my castle's infirmary. No doubt it would allow her mother some respite …"

"P-please, Mr. Goblin King—um, sir!" the man whimpered, peeking out from under the arm raised to forehead level. Jareth rolled his eyes, hands on hips, only then realizing that he still wore his black and brown armor and thick, darkly shaded feathered cape. His hair stirred in the wash of power and he didn't feel inclined to soften his appearance in any way. "I-Can I try again, sir? I didn't mean to lose my temper! I'm sorry. So sorry," the Labyrinth's latest runner groveled.

"You never _mean_ to, do you? It isn't me to whom you owe penitence, or more so, penance," he growled, restraining himself-although he did want to rip out the man's spine for wishing at the worst possible time in addition to threatening one of his own. As Hoggle righted himself, Jareth could clearly see the darkening finger marks around the dwarf's throat.

"Yeah. Um, yeah," he mumbled, rolling to his hands and knees in order to edge away from Jareth still further, and then pushed to his feet. Turning toward Hoggle, he said, "I'm sorry, guy. I mean…I was totally out of line." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, offering it to the gardener cum doorkeeper. "I know it isn't much, but would you accept this as a token of my apology?" Spread across the man's open palm was two quarters, a dime, and a penny. The dwarf looked at it, greed warring with uncertainty when his gaze darted from the collection of coins to Jareth.

Jareth inclined his head slightly and the dwarf quickly snatched the collection of shiny metal, dropping it into his jewel bag and backing away. "Fine," he grunted, grabbing his pixie repellant and aiming it toward the wall to the great maze.

"And maybe show me how to get into the Labyrinth?" the obnoxious runner ventured.

"You really hurt my neck," Hoggle grumbled, eyes fixed on the wall. He pushed the plunger on his mist-pump, spraying nothing but open air.

After fumbling under his shirt for a moment, the man pulled something over his head and extended it, explaining, "It lights up if you push this little sliding button." He pushed the switch, eliciting a bright glow from the tiny device. "Would you please tell me how I get into the Labyrinth?"

When he once again intercepted Hoggle's questioning glance, Jareth nodded ever so slightly.

"You gets in…" Hoggle said and paused. Rightfully guessing his reason for stopping, the man dropped the glowing device over Hoggle's head. "_There_," Hoggle finished, waving a hand toward the large doors as they creaked open.

"Thanks, dude!" the runner called over his shoulder, already jogging toward the doors.

"Good riddance," Hoggle huffed, turning back to look for more fairy pests.

Dropping a gloved hand to Hoggle's shoulder, Jareth tossed a crystal into the air, transferring both he and the dwarf to the castle's infirmary. At Hoggle's squawk of surprise, Jareth called out, "Check him for injury, he was attacked by a runner," and turned to leave.

"Wait, Your Majesty!"

Jareth stopped and looked around to identify the speaker. It was Acacyllis, the elfin healer and matron who ran the castle's medical wing. She hurried toward him, halting briefly to issue a low directive to her apprentice who then went scurrying off without a backward glance.

"Yes, matron, what is it?" Jareth asked irritably. What he needed to do was get to the runner's throne, or better still, his study, so that he could try to find his son. He had to warn the Labyrinth's citizens about this runner, too. And he still hadn't heard from…

"Sire, one of the goblins found the young lord and brought him here."

"Young lord? Severus?" Jareth swayed on his feet, the relief was so great. He'd been so worried that he hadn't dared even think about his other young cousin. Another death just might be more than he could take at present, especially while not knowing where his son was. The healer reached for him, but dropped her hands before touching him as he steadied himself. "Is he well? Where is he? Was he alone?" he demanded rapid fire.

"His mind was attacked, Your Highness, and he was confused and in pain, wandering the castle. He is this way," she said, turning toward the darkest part of the ward.

She led him past a row of beds, most of which were empty. Some of them, however, contained various members of his court along with one or two castle goblins. As they passed, he glanced at the latest wished-away child who was sleeping peacefully and looking a great deal better than she had upon arriving.

"She's fine, Sire," the matron informed him, hesitating in her trek when she'd noticed the object of his interest. "She's been healed and the young lord's potions have allowed me to keep her safe in sleep until you judge her runner. If he has repented, perhaps you'll remove the memories of his wrongdoing…"

"Perhaps," Jareth murmured noncommittally. It was certainly within his purview to alter her memory, and her mother's for that matter and even those of the man who was guilty of causing the bad memories in the first place. He would decide at a later time if they would be best served by forgetting. Perhaps he would correct their memories and leave the obnoxious abuser to remember his sins…

Matron Acacyllis nodded, resuming her journey to the far end of the ward, only slowing down long enough to twitch aside the gauzy white curtain that surrounded the last bed. The sleeping man tossed and moaned and then fell silent again.

"The bright light and activity on the ward was upsetting to him. I had asked that you come to me upon your return. I'd already notified the guards. As a member of your family, you would have been advised that he was here, but this sort of mental intrusion will require your assistance. Because he is of your line, Sire, and because you have the power of mind magics, only you can help him."

Even though Severus was injured and unwell, to find him living at all was more than Jareth had dared hope for. He moved forward slowly, removing one glove as he placed his palm on Severus' forehead. The young man stilled instantly, opening his eyes.

"Majesty, I…And Dumbledore. Is Lily? Who-who is Harry? I tried, Sire, I…"

"Shh," Jareth hushed him. "Don't worry, Severus. You have served your king well today, simply by living through it and returning home. Rest now," he ordered, keeping his voice low and soothing. He pushed a bit of magic through his hand to reinforce the command. "Rest, Severus."

After sitting with him for several long minutes to simply feel the relief of having at least one member of his remaining family close at hand and relatively safe, Jareth moved to rise. He needed to check on his runner and his Labyrinth. Unfortunately, his body was unwilling to cooperate. He collapsed back to his seat ungracefully, feeling dizzy and disconcerted.

Matron Acacyllis immediately surged forward, though remaining a step away, and began to mutter spells while weaving her hands in an intricate pattern on either side of his body. "You have over extended your power to the point of exhaustion!" she admonished. Gone was the deferential subject and in her place was a stern and scolding healer. "Make yourself comfortable, young man. You willna be moving a whit until you take some replenisher and sit for thirty grains." When he opened his mouth to object, her eyes narrowed. "No. Ankou will take you before I listen to your foolishness. When you neglect and abuse yourself, you are subject to _my_ rule!"

For a moment, Jareth considered snapping back at her, knowing she would cow if he chose to push the issue. It felt good though, to cede control, to be cared for somewhat, even if only for half an hour.

He looked back at Severus, laying so still on the bed just an inch or two behind him. This might very well be the last bit of calm and comfort he could expect, assuming he could put aside the death of his beloved cousins and the missing son he'd shared with them. Under the circumstances, he didn't have much choice. It only made sense to rest now—it would likely be quite some time before any form of solace came his way again. With an internal shrug, Jareth extended a hand to accept the potion the matron pressed upon him.

AN: Sorry it's so late. I have every hope of offering up another chapter tomorrow. Happy Labor Day.


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: The characters in this story mostly belong to the writers and owner of the Harry Potter series and Labyrinth. The story is mine. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Ten

When Sarah called for her friends the afternoon of Halloween, she was surprised when only Ludo stumbled through the mirror, clutching a tube of some sort. She missed her friends, all of them. If she couldn't talk to her newest female friend, she'd visit with her oldest friends.

She'd just read another missive from Lily and she felt a bit melancholy. That was another thing she had in common with the woman. The redhead had unashamedly admitted that she had very few other people to connect with and would be writing to Sarah ridiculously often.

Lily's last three letters were full of tidbits about life at court, Iarfhlaith's latest antics, and of course, the king. By the end of the first letter, Sarah had guiltily painted Jareth's face in her mind's eye to represent His Majesty in Lily's newsy dispatches. It became startlingly easy to do so when Lily confided how distinguished and exotic he'd looked at the last High Court ball where she'd had the dubious privilege of serving as his escort. Because he was single and she was the mother of his son through surrogacy, as well as a close relation to him and his mother, nobody could contest her right to be there with him. All the single maidens had been bitterly jealous of her, as well they should be, it turned out. Apparently both Lily's husband and the king were disgustingly handsome. Lord Potter had dark hair, while His Majesty had much lighter hair—lighter than her red hair, she informed Sarah, but both were quite good looking. In the absence of an actual description with hair color, Lily's king became tall, blond, and aristocratic with longer flyaway hair similar to Iarfhlaith...or Jareth.

"Sawa?" Ludo prodded, still holding the cylinder with both hands. "Sawa okay?"

"Yes, sorry, Ludo. Come in, sit down. Would you like some tea?" She slipped under the large beast's arm and gave him a hug, stepping away quickly. He seemed a bit uneasy and she wanted to make him comfortable.

"Tea good," Ludo accepted emphatically. Before he reached for his cup, he extended his small burden to her. "Note. From brother," he informed her when she took it.

"Do you know what it says?"

"Uh, uh," Ludo said sadly, hanging his head.

"Don't worry, Ludo, I'll read it out loud, okay? Drink your tea, okay? And have a cookie."

Ludo's countenance brightened and he leaned over to pat her head. "Sawa _good_ fwend," he declared, apparently pleased.

"Thank you, Ludo," she answered with a strained smile. "Let me just get a sip of tea, first."

She was tempted to grab an aspirin, but hoped the tea would help the slight throbbing from Ludo's affectionate caress. It took her a moment to work the carved wooden end off of the tooled leather scroll case that Ludo had given her. She had to admire the workmanship first, of course. Such attention to detail was rare these days and she shuddered to think what such an item would cost if she were to buy it. For all she knew, such things were commonplace in the Underground. She intended send it back however. It was too fine an artifact to give away with a note.

Sarah would have simply unrolled the letter and read it, had not two gilded rods spilled out of the tube, while the paper stubbornly remained inside. A glance at Ludo elicited a bemused shrug. After a few moments of inspecting and fiddling, she realized the purpose of the rods. Eventually, she managed to remove the scroll from the tube, unroll it, and attach a rod to each end to keep it open.

Clearing her throat, she began to read:

_I beg you accept my most sincere regards this day/_

_Sir Hoggle and I, most sadly to be sure, are unable to attend thee… _

Laying the letter in her lap, Sarah scrubbed at her face with both hands. Turning to her tea, she took a sip and gave Ludo a slightly exasperated smile.

"Would you mind if I translate it as I read, Ludo? I think it's the only way I'm going to understand it myself."

Ludo grunted in a way that Sarah took to be agreement and turned his attention back to the plate of cookies. With her guest occupied, Sarah scanned the letter more fully before attempting to read it aloud.

"Okay, Ludo, I'm going to give this a try. If you think I've gotten something wrong, just stop me, okay?"

"Uh, huh," he concurred and fixed his attention back onto her.

She couldn't help but grin at him. He was such an affable beast for being so large and loud. "Okay, here we go."

Her paraphrasing was slow and choppy, but it did help her to truly understand what she was reading. She never thought she'd be quite so grateful to her advanced English Literature Professor as she was this minute.

_Dear Sarah,_

_Sir Hoggle and I are really sorry we couldn't come, but the days that fall before, including, and immediately following Halloween in the Aboveground are quite busy for us. We have had many people in the Labyrinth and almost no time to rest. _

_Thankfully, one minute up in the Above is equal to thirty six minutes here. So just one of your hours is roughly thirty-six hours of our time. It's rather complicated. It does help keep the Labyrinth from being overcrowded, however. _

Here she had to stop a minute and goggle at the very idea. Ludo simply shrugged. She'd try to do the math another time, when she didn't already feel a headache building. Shaking her head, she resumed reading.

_Sadly, though, Sir Hoggle and I have been kept very busy as we are required to remain in the Labyrinth when someone chooses to try to reclaim the child they've wished away. Sir Hoggle, of course, has the more important job since he must open the main doors. I, though, may never see anyone at all during the time they search. In fact, few ever make it this far._

_Worse than the over-abundance of searchers, however, is the unhappy news that Sir Hoggle had a bit of trouble with a human this day. We are proud of our king, as you already know, but he proved himself once again a hero and savior to each and every one of his subjects, no matter how large or small. _

Sarah broke off reading and turned to Ludo, alarmed. "Hoggle was hurt?"

"Yesh," Ludo confirmed sadly, his face collapsing into a frown. "Note, Sawa," he reminded her, waving his furry hand at the scroll she held.

"Oh, yes, of course." Perhaps Ludo was hoping for more information, too…Worried, now, she cleared her throat and returned to Sir Didymus' missive.

_A scurrilous knave had him by the throat and moved to strike him, weapon in hand, when His Majesty appeared, thus saving Sir Hoggle from further injury and possible death. He immediately removed our friend to the castle's hospital for treatment, thank the stars. No sooner was Sir Hoggle in the healer's care, did His Majesty send out an edict to all residents to beware. Only those who themselves were a danger to others were given leave to remain active. You should know, my lady, that when the king delivers such an order, it is physically impossible for any creature within his domain to act against it. _

Pausing again, Sarah asked Ludo, "So it's like being quarantined or maybe locked inside for your own protection?"

"Yesh," he confirmed, nodding and spraying cookie crumbs onto the little table. "Sowwy," he apologized.

"It's okay, Ludo, don't worry about it. Let me finish this, okay? Then we'll chat."

"Kay."

Sarah scanned and deciphered for a moment, and found where she'd left off.

_As if his dedicated care of his people and especially my dear friend was not enough, our treasured monarch then sent me a gift to keep and use under these most dire circumstances. He advised that he trusted me to judge when the need should arise, though he made it clear that this was such a time. I was one of the few free to deal with the menace as he passed. The gift, Lady Sarah, was a treasure unmatched. It was an ancient and polished sword from his personal weaponry. The hilt is crafted after the symbol of the Labyrinth herself, one of a precious few meant for the very protectors of her heart. I cannot tell you of the honor I felt when His Majesty's magic washed over me the moment I touched the pommel. As if being judged a worthy threat on his behalf by the very king himself was not reward enough… I'm sure I will be able to show it to you, as I shall always wear it, though I would only brandish it at those judged a true threat._

_Duty calls now, my lady, and it was only by permission of His Majesty that Sir Ludo was approved to visit you. I hope to see you soon and will forward news about Sir Hoggle when I can. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Sir Didymus_

"Wow."

"Yup," Ludo concurred.

Sarah was worried now about Sir Didymus along with Hoggle. With a true sword, though, instead of his tiny lance, the fierce little fox might be a formidable opponent. He certainly was fearless and had fought Ludo unreservedly. If he'd had a sharp weapon then, he might have killed Ludo.

There was so much information in the note that Sarah didn't know where to start in order to process all of it. She'd take the time later to picture the attractive king playing the hero. No doubt her imagination would be up to the task. What was really frustrating, though, was that no matter how much she loved Ludo, he wasn't much of a conversationalist. She hated not knowing what was going on, but there was nothing to do about it just now. At least he was safe here. Just because he was big and loud and could call rocks didn't mean he couldn't be hurt by a vicious man with a weapon who was already willing to hurt Hoggle. After all, those rocks had to come from somewhere and that took time. It was best that he stay with her for awhile.

"Why don't I write a quick note back to Sir Didymus and then I'll tell you all about my class. If you stick around, you'll see some of them all dressed up for trick-or-treating."

Ludo clapped his hands in delight and Sarah readied herself mentally for a busy evening of jumping up for the doorbell while she tried to entertain Ludo—the monster of few words. Before she did anything else, though, she pulled out her best stationary and wrote a note to her valiant little friend.

KT KT KT KT KT

The sound of a high-pitched scream brought him awake, and for a moment, Iarfhlaith was frozen, afraid to make a sound. He was being carried and he couldn't see. By the time he was able to struggle out of the blanket covering his face, he'd stopped moving and whatever he was in was lowered and then still.

"Vernon!"

When the shrill voice screeched above him it shocked him and Iarfhlaith couldn't help but burst into tears.

At first, he was just frightened, but that was enough. He didn't know where he was and his mummy wasn't here. That green light had got her, from that ugly man. It made her die, which meant she fell down and couldn't see anymore, because her eyes were empty. And he wasn't to do that, because mummy made him promise.

"Mummy," he sobbed. "Daka…Bapa Daimie…"

He didn't see the woman who wrapped her arms around him and gathered him up, shushing him. She felt funny and poky, a little like a chicken, but it helped some, just being held.

"Hush, now," the woman told him, in a mummy sort of a voice. "Vernon, I couldn't make sense out of that note. See if you can tell who this baby belongs to so we can decide what to do with it. I can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. I think it's _foreign._"

Iarfhlaith heard and considered everything the woman said, but he couldn't answer, since he couldn't seem to stop crying.

"It says here, Pet, that he—it's a he—belonged to your sister. Apparently she got killed somehow, just last night…" The woman stopped rocking him and patting his back. "It says he's got to live with a member of his mother's family…well, his mother's mum's family, because of something she did to protect him. Note says his name's Harry."

"Lily's mother is _not_ my mother," the woman hissed, very still now. "And I know very well his name isn't _Harry_," she added, her voice harsh. "It's some kind of _Irish_ name that's impossible to spell and doesn't sound at all like it looks."

"Pet, this note says he _has_ to stay here because this person who wrote it put some sort of _spell_ on the house. If he doesn't stay with us, apparently we won't be safe." The man's voice sounded a little frightened. "Dudders won't be safe, Pet."

The woman reared back and held Iarfhlaith away from her. "Well, boy, what do you have to say for yourself?"

He was hiccupping, now, but no longer crying, so he looked up at the woman and tried to answer her. "Mummy die-ed," he sniffed.

The woman shrieked and dropped him, leaping away as if he'd turned into a goblin. "His eyes, Vernon! He's a freak!"

Iarfhlaith didn't know what that meant, but he knew he'd fallen to the floor and it hurt. And mummy wasn't coming to cuddle him, maybe not ever again.

He started crying again and couldn't stop, not even when the big man came at him and pushed him into the small dark room, shoving his blanket in after him. Wrapping his blanket around himself, he coughed and cried, trying to stop, trying to make himself dream. Daka always told him when he went to sleep that he could see him in his dreams, any time he wanted. He wanted his Daka. He had to find his Daka, but he didn't know how. Maybe if he dreamed, he'd find him, and then he wouldn't be afraid.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Labyrinth.

Chapter Eleven

It was the silence that was the most disconcerting. Severus usually preferred quiet, or at least he had thought so. It turned out, after much reflection, that what he actually preferred was calm. The sort of silence permeating the Labyrinth and Goblin Kingdom, and indeed, the entire Underground, was a shocked, sad, and frightened stillness which didn't qualify as a true calm.

The human who had been running the Labyrinth the night Severus arrived had been killed. In fact, from what he'd heard, that little fox that guarded the Bog of Stench had been forced to end him using an adapted short sword given to him by His Majesty that very night. The man had been running out of time and had attacked a family of wood sprites living nearby. The story told was that the runner had had to work pretty hard to dig them out of their tree, given that the king had sealed away all of his most vulnerable subjects for the duration of the violent man's run. Sadly, he'd had anger issues, hated to lose, and even worse, was a squib from a prominent family in the Americas. His residual magic allowed him to get further along than anticipated in the three or so hours left to him after finally entering the Labyrinth.

When his body had been returned home, his brother, an aspiring dark lord, wished himself away, along with a handful of the man's followers. King Jareth had been debriefing the heroic fox in another part of the castle. Upon responding to the castle's warning, the two of them materialized into a pitched battle between the wizards and goblins in the wish-away and goblin throne room. Apparently, the fox did quite a bit of damage but was injured in the five seconds before the fraying thread of His Majesty's vast and glorious temper snapped. The bloodbath that followed was horrifying, even in second-hand whispers told many days later. On a more positive note, there would never again be an attack on the Goblin King or his domain from Above, ever…by anything anywhere—and the valiant little fox, Sir Didymus, would recover completely, decorated with full honors.

Most frustrating of all, at least for Severus, was that his mind had needed the same frame of time to heal from intrusion as if he'd been in t he Above. Yesterday evening was the first occasion in nearly three months local-time that he was allowed to walk through the halls of the castle. To be precise, that morning was the first time in almost ninety days Underground that he'd been allowed to even retain full consciousness. For this and other reasons, His Majesty had kept the parting journey of James and Lily Potter on hold until Severus could participate.

Nobody had known of the death of the Lady Mother and her consort for the first thirty-six days, the end of twenty-four hours by the Aboveground calendar. Apparently the king had hoped he could recover his son before finalizing to parting of the two people he shared parenthood with and had only revealed their deaths in the second month. The next thirty days had allowed High King Oberon and High Queen Titania to view the couple, attempt to comfort their son, and attend the various services for their distant niece and nephew. People from all over the vast Underground territories had come to pay their respects and accompany the remaining family on their journey to the big water to send Lily's and James' bodies to join their souls in the Otherworld.

The walk began at dusk last evening and ended just before the sun reached its zenith late this morning. Nobody spoke at all during the trek aside from the low murmuring of _sidhe _prayers by some of the crowd. The bodies of the couple were released into the surf of the Western Sea and would float off toward the Isle of Paradise joining their souls already waiting there. As direct family of the royal house, Severus, along with the bodies Lily, and James, were dressed in the palest blue silk reflecting the color of the summer sky before one's eye reaches the sun. Lily wore a dress and kid slippers and James, like Severus, was clothed in a long tunic, breeches and knee boots. The High King and Queen, along with King Jareth wore white clothing, the hue so white, in fact, that it hurt one's eyes to look for long. Jareth's hair had seemed to pale to silver, as did his parents' hair. Severus wondered for a moment if Iarfhlaith's hair would have followed suit. While most of the citizenry remained behind to celebrate the lives and mourn the loss of the departed, the royal family, along with each court and certain key citizens, transported back to their respective domains. For this, Severus was particularly grateful.

With a shake of his head, he lifted his hand to knock on His Majesty's study door. As he knocked, he realized that he was still dressed in the fine blue funerary attire. To Severus' surprise, the door jerked open immediately. The first thing he noticed as he entered was that the king had not changed either, and then the bright, seemingly ultraviolet white pierced his eyes sending a shooting pain straight into his head.

When he winced, King Jareth stepped back, tossing up a crystal to break over them. "My apologies, Severus, I hadn't realized what I was wearing, just as you apparently didn't either."

After forcing his eyes open again, he looked down to see that he was dressed in burnished gold trews or leggings, tan boots, an off white shirt and off white and gold brocade vest. The style was similar to His Majesty's preference, but a great deal more understated. He couldn't hold back a slight smile.

"Thank you, Sire."

"Had to think about it, did you?" the king responded with a faint smirk. "I'll have the tailor see you tomorrow, shall I?" Severus nodded as no verbal answer seemed required.

It surprised Severus to see His Majesty wearing varying shades of pale gold and off white. Everything he wore had very little color, all of it a shade lighter than Severus' clothes. He realized, after a moment, that they were both dressed in traditional fae daily mourning attire, or what was normal for the royal family. The citizens of this kingdom would wear pale pastels of other colors, but Severus' clothing reflected his higher status. He couldn't help but feel moved. It wasn't often that Severus Snape was included, but the Goblin King had been scrupulous about making sure that Severus knew that he was a member of his family. He suspected his color was supposed to be different than the direct royal line. He'd have to read up. Later.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to focus on the reason he had come. "Matron Acacyllis has cleared me for…" Severus trailed off. He didn't quite know what to call it. "I suppose she cleared me for us to do what we need to," he finished.

"Yes," the king murmured, looking at him intently as if judging his wellbeing for himself. "Well, come and sit down, then. Let us see what we can find." Severus followed the king to the two wingback chairs they sat in during his last visit, slightly surprised when his companion pulled his own chair closer before sitting down. "This will require a certain amount of "_hands on"_ interaction, Severus," the king warned. "I will enter your mind and slowly repair the blockages—or whatever other damage we find. If it is an action that was the cause, we'll see it projected as it repairs itself. If it was something you heard, we will see and hear the words spoken. The picture might be somewhat faded, but the words will be clear or conversely, if the event you witnessed was blocked out, we'll see it more clearly than we hear it. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sire," Severus managed, throat dry.

With a brusque nod, the fae touched his temples, a palm cupping either side of his face. "Look at me," he ordered. Unable to disobey, Severus looked up into the king's hypnotic mismatched eyes. King Jareth spoke a few words that Severus couldn't understand, though something in him pulled, as if he had known the language once upon a time. A steady hum began in the back of his mind, the sound growing louder and clearer a little at a time, as if something was moving closer from a great distance. The king continued to speak musical sounding words in a singsong tone that sounded vaguely familiar. A pressure grew, as if a zipper was coming undone. All Severus could see was the dark magnetic center of King Jareth's eyes while he felt the rhythmic vibration throughout his entire being. When he was certain his mind would fly apart, the king released him murmuring, "Remember!"

A third voice then began to speak. "One moment, I just realized that the floo was open in one of my homes," the faint figure of Headmaster Dumbledore told Severus before winking away.

Then after a brief pause, he reappeared. "Oh, dear, oh dear," the flickering old manipulator clucked, "It looks like something has happened to the Potters." His words were somehow false in their echo, and Severus suddenly remembered the look on the Headmaster's face at the time. "The child lives," he continued. "I'll have to send Hagrid for him right away as his godfather, Sirius Black, obviously can't be trusted. He'll have to stay someplace safe until…"

"You'll do nothing of the kind," Severus heard himself snap at the man, though no image of him showed—perhaps that was because he was present? He didn't know. But now his voice sounded again. "That boy is _my_ godchild and he goes nowhere that I…"

The figure of Albus Dumbledore stood and then Severus saw himself turn. "_Obliviate_!" Dumbledore said hurriedly before he faded away.

And then there was only silence between himself and the king.

Although Severus was more than a little disturbed by the images and memories resettling themselves into his mind, he was truly frightened by the glacial rage frozen across King Jareth's features.

The room remained silent for countless seconds until the king finally spoke. "The day of that man's death—hopefully by my hands—will be widely celebrated in this land," the monarch hissed, gripping the arm of his chair so tightly that the leather gave way on one side. "You do not truly know what he has cost us thus far, do you Severus?"

"He has taken my godson, that I am sure of," Severus said tautly, his own anger burning hot.

"Yes, that he has. Now that we know this, we have some hope of finding him. But there was a larger significance to his words than even you realize," He handed Severus a crystal orb. "Watch it. I don't have the stomach to see it again just now."

When Severus turned his attention back to the king after viewing the crystal, he was surprised to realize that only ten minutes had passed. It had seemed like a lifetime, but then again, in a sense it was.

"Can we kill him?" Severus choked out.

"Of course we can, Severus. Since we are constrained by all manner of treaties, we ought not to, but anyone can be killed. Sadly for him, he has broken a treaty or two by his actions." He leaned back in his chairs and tapped the tips of his gloved fingers together. "As soon as my son is safe again, Headmaster Dumbledore will begin to experience a deplorable run of bad luck." King Jareth's eyes narrowed. "The moment it is safe for the two of you to reside here solely, Albus Dumbledore will experience a very public, terribly tragic accident. There will be no doubt as to how careless he was, and what, exactly caused his death…or who."

KT KT KT KT KT

It was cold and dark, and Iarfhlaith wanted to go home. He was hungry, too, but when he'd shown that he didn't need a bottle, he was allowed a banana, at least. The woman, he was to call her ma'am, yelled at him and hit him for needing a new nappy. She'd given him a nappy to pull on himself and told him he had to use the toilet from now on. He'd never done that before and it was high up, but he'd managed, with a great deal of difficulty and some splatter. That had earned him another slap and orders to clean it up.

And then there was the other boy who was twice as big as Iarfhlaith, but drank a bottle like a baby. He screamed and cried when he wanted things, and then he threw his toys. Iarfhlaith's mummy would _never _stand for that. That was the sort thing that made her voice get mad and caused him to go to bed without a story, even if it wasn't sleepy-time yet. But Iarfhlaith didn't have any toys here, or clothes either, and his arms felt shivery.

This was a horrid place—the worst place in the Above.

"Daky, Daky, _peese_, wanna be Unda-gwound…" Iarfhlaith sang softly, taking care to keep his voice low.

"A land serre_eeenne_…" came a tiny voice off to the side.

Iarfhlaith's head shot up and he looked around. "Who is it?"

Something that looked like a teeny little boy with shiny butterfly wings, altogether no bigger than Iarfhlaith's finger, fluttered in front of him. A nimbus of light surrounded the winged boy and it seemed to come from a very small stick he carried. "My name is Jasper and I'm a pixie. Mum saw a stone called jasper once and it was dark red, like my hair, so she called me Jasper."

"Mine, too?" Iarfhlaith asked, reaching up to pull a strand of hair forward.

The pixie flew closer and lit the area around Iarfhlaith's head. "Wow! Your hair _is_ red. Dark red; darker than mine. Is your name Jasper, too?"

"No. I'm Yaawa."

"Well, that's an odd name. But if your mummy gave it to you, then it's a good one." Jasper looked at him for a long minute, waving his stick and making it brighter in the little room. "You look a lot like the king, do you know that?"

Iarfhlaith's eyes filled and he nodded. "My Daka is Gobbin King. Wanna be Unda-gwound." He sniffled and wiped at his face with the blanket. "Can I go wif you?"

"Hey, so you're the prince, aren't you?" Iarfhlaith nodded hopefully. "I'm sorry Prince, but I can't go. I can't go until the king calls me. I haven't been there in a _very_ long time. And he won't call me for a long time, still."

Iarfhlaith wanted to be a big boy, he really did. But he was little still and he couldn't help but cry. This pixie-person knew his Daka, but he couldn't take him. It felt like he'd been so close to his Daka, and then lost again.

"Want my Daka," he sniffled, laying down on the rug that Ma'am had put in the dark room for him and pulling his little blanket over his body.

"Shh. Of course you do, Prince. But at least I'm here. I can help." Iarfhlaith felt a warm tingling fall over him as he closed his eyes. "Down in the Underground, you'll find someone _tru-uu_," Jasper sang as Iarfhlaith's breathing evened out and he began to dream.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: The story is mine. The characters belong to owners of the Harry Potter world and the owners of the movie _Labyrinth_.

Chapter Twelve

Watching the clock, Sarah tried to do the math in her head. She'd called her friends two minutes ago. That was an hour and twelve minutes in the Underground, apparently. Had it always taken so long to round everyone up?

"I'm here, Sarah," came Hoggle's gruff voice, startling her out of her multiplication-induced stupor.

"Oh, Hoggle!" she cried, rushing forward to hug her friend. "Are you all right? I heard you were injured!"

"Tweren't nothin' Sarah," Hoggle protested with a blush. "Now, Iffin' ya want ta fuss over somebody, just wait till Sir Didymus gets here, but he'll be a little while yet." His voice had turned serious now, heavy with worry of his own.

Sarah stepped back, but held on to Hoggle's shoulder, looking into his eyes, fear for her friend clutched at her heart. "What is it, Hoggle? What's happened?"

"You think I can have a cup 'o tea while we talk about it?" Hoggle asked hopefully. "I'm mighty parched."

"Yes, of course," Sarah assured him, leading him into the sitting room. "I think you scared the manners right out of me, Hoggle."

Hoggle took a seat on the low couch, near the coffee table and stirred his tea as he formed his response. Finally, he answered, "I reckon you got good reason to be scared, Sarah. Or you did have, at least."

In the process of take a sip, Sarah stopped. After considering her friend for a moment, she set her steaming cup down carefully. "How bad was it?"

"Bad, Sarah. Real bad." He looked off into the middle distance and swallowed heavily, as if remembering something highly distressing. "Didymus ended up killin' that man what hurt me." Sarah gasped and covered her mouth in shock. "He was tryin' ta get at some sprites what couldn't protect themselves. The king sent his body back to his family, but they was wizards."

"Wizards?"

"Those'r just humans what have magic and use wands. Most of 'em keep to their own kind. But sometimes one of 'em gets born without magic, so they move out into the regular world, like where you live." Sarah nodded her understanding. "Anyways, the man's brother and a bunch o' his people wished themselves away all at once. When they got to where the goblin room and throne is, they started off killin' goblins and shootin' off spells. Didymus and the king was talking so they showed up together. Didymus started fighting right away, but one of those wizards got him pretty bad. I heard tell that His Majesty…" He paused and took a generous gulp of his tea. "I can't tell it all to a lady like you, Sarah…but there's still blood on the ceiling and in some o' the corners."

"Lady Sarah?" Sir Didymus called out from the hall. "Are thee present?"

Standing to greet him, Sarah stopped to pat Hoggle's shoulder on the way by. She froze for a moment at the end of the hallway, alarmed to see him leaning on a cane as he came toward her. Immediately, she stepped forward and dropped to her knees in front of him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Oh, Sir Didymus," she whispered, a tear spilling from her eye.

"How, now, my lady, dost thou weep for me?" he asked, seeming bewildered and flustered all at once. "Weep not for the wounds of this old knight, good lady, either within or without. Mine own mother was a fox, but mine most noble father a fox terrier. I gained his tenacity in all things and will not be slowed for long. Time will cure my ailments, and a goodly measure of magic from the Labyrinth shall surely help."

After a second hug, Sarah stood. "How about a nice cup of tea, Sir Didymus? I've learned that there's no better medicine for aches, pains, and life in general." When they reached the sitting room, Sarah helped Sir Didymus into a wingback chair she'd had made by a local craftsman, scaled to his size. When he opened his mouth to comment on it, she cut him off. "All of my friends are important to me, Sir Didymus. I want you to be comfortable when you visit me."

"My lady, you honor me enough with your friendship. I am truly moved."

"I know I'm not the only one who values you." She handed him his tea and refreshed Hoggle's cup. As she did so, she told Sir Didymus, "Hoggle was just filling me in on how you were injured. It sounded like the king was pretty upset when you got injured, too."

"Now, I didn't say anything much about what happened to those wizards," Hoggle objected before Sir Didymus could speak.

"Nay, t'would be most unseemly to speak so to such dear ears," Sir Didymus agreed before adding, "You should know, my lady, that while I know well my value to our dear king, he had other, more pressing reasons to be angered at wizards that day."

"Yeah," Hoggle agreed sadly, drooping in his seat.

"What? Did something else happen?" When neither guest answered but instead hung their heads, Sarah grew alarmed. "Is the king all right?"

"Well as c'n be expected, I guess," Hoggle said with a sigh.

Sarah turned to look at Sir Didymus, hoping he would fill in the blanks. After a somber sigh and a sip of his tea, he looked up at her.

"All Hallows was a most cursed night for His Majesty, both Underground and Aboveground. We learned after the fact that two much beloved members of the king's family were killed and his son cruelly taken away."

"No!" Sarah choked. "His son was kidnapped? And his family murdered?"

"Yeah, Sarah," Hoggle agreed as Sir Didymus nodded. "The whole Underground kingdom is in mourning. The king's only got one other person left in his family besides his parents and his son. And his son's missing."

Once again, Sarah felt her eyes fill. "Nobody should have to suffer like that. He must be out of his mind with worry and grief. I wish I could see him and offer my condolences and support."

She saw Hoggle's eyes widen across from her just before he slid off the couch and onto one knee. Sir Didymus had scooted forward in his chair, but a smooth voice halted him causing Sarah to shoot to her feet.

"Stay seated Sir Didymus. Rise, Hogleg."

Because her teary eyes were locked on the Goblin King's face, she caught his fleeting smirk when her dwarf friend mumbled emphatically, "_Hoggle._"

To Sarah, he offered a half smile and slight bow. "You wished to see me, my dear Sarah?"

"Oh, yes, I…" she started, looking up into his mismatched eyes. In that instant, she remembered why and felt the tears in her eyes spill over. "I wanted…It's so awful," she faltered, looking away.

He caught her chin in one gloved hand and tipped her face up, a fingertip stroking away the tears trailing down her cheek. "Please don't cry, Sarah," he murmured. "There is enough pain and suffering in my world just now. I would treasure a smile from you, instead."

Somehow she managed one, even with the buttery leather of his gloved hands cupping her face. Taking her completely by surprise, he leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to her forehead before dropping his hands and stepping back.

"Won't you join us for a cup of tea?" she invited, her voice shaky and uneven. Hoggle made an odd choking noise, but Sarah ignored him.

The king smirked slightly, raising a brow toward Hoggle before returning his attention to her. "I'll have to beg off, this time, I'm sorry to say." She had to admit, he _did_ sound regretful. "I came in answer to your wish, certainly, but as I am here, I'll offer regrets on behalf of the beast, Ludo, who is otherwise occupied just now."

"He's all right, isn't he?" she asked hurriedly, having realized that the Labyrinth was much more dangerous than even she had realized.

"He's fine," the king assured her. "As we speak, he is assisting my young cousin in gathering various plant and fur samples for some research he is conducting." A look of pride and satisfaction crossed his face as he added, "I expect he will attain his potions mastery before the year is out and continue work toward his masters in alchemy. I'm quite sure he will succeed. Severus is most talented."

Sarah grinned, glad he had someone to distract him even a little from his worries. "Please offer him my best wishes, then. I know how hard it is to get a masters degree. I hope to have mine in a year or two."

"I will pass on your regards. Unfortunately, I have much work to attend." Addressing Sir Didymus and Hoggle, he said, "Enjoy your visit, gentlemen. I'll send for you if the need arises." Fixing his intense gaze back upon her, he stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek. "I am but a wish away, Sarah. Remember that." With those words, he took a step backward and disappeared from the room.

Nobody spoke for several seconds. "Well, that was a surprise," Sarah said eventually.

"You _did_ wish," Sir Didymus observed.

"I'm sure I've said the words _"I wish"_ lots of times," Sarah objected.

"It was quite specific, milady," Sir Didymus countered.

Sarah nodded and then realized, "He was dressed awfully brightly for someone in mourning."

"Sarah," Hoggle said gently. "We're _all_ in mourning."

Looking from Hoggle to Sir Didymus and back again, she frowned. Glancing between them a second time, she understood. Hoggle was dressed in light khaki, his vest a faded yellow and his shoes and hat a pale tan. Sir Didymus hat was no longer a royal blue but a faint baby blue, while the mostly red jacket he normally wore had been replaced by beige with buff colored stripes on the sleeves.

"Things are not always what they seem," she groaned. "When will I learn?"

"Today, perhaps?" Sir Didymus teased.

"Probably not," she groaned, rolling her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Sarah a huffed out a little laugh and reached over to pat his paw affectionately and stood, gathering the tea tray. "Excuse me minute, and I'll put together another pot of tea."

She needed a moment to collect herself. More to the point, she just wanted to close her eyes for one minute and remember seeing those unique and mesmerizing eyes looking into her own—replay the feel of his breath on her face.

Turning her attention back to the tea, Sarah tried to put his words into the proper perspective.

"He didn't mean it," she mumbled. "King of the Goblins, remember?"

"_Just a wish away, Sarah,"_ The Goblin King's voice echoed around her.

Wide-eyed, Sarah whipped around, but the kitchen was empty. Hands pressed to her chest, she tried to catch her breath.

"Okay, maybe he _did_ mean it."

Loading up the tea tray, Sarah hurried into the sitting room, carefully avoiding Sir Didymus' all-too-knowing eye.

KT KT KT KT KT

"I got you a present today," Jasper told Iarfhlaith when he stumbled into their little room—with a little help from Ma'am, who was called Petunia or Pet by the man. The man didn't want Iarfhlaith to call him anything at all, so he didn't, even though Jasper had a lot of fun names for him.

"Soft," Iarfhlaith noticed aloud, stroking the rug where he and Jasper slept. Jasper had apparently done something else nice to the rug.

"Okay, two presents then," Jasper amended. "Only you have to do something special for to get this present. Don't you want to know what it is?"

"What I has to do?" Iarfhlaith asked warily, lifting tired eyes to the shimmering pixie.

"What do I _have_ to do?" Jasper corrected him. "A prince has to know how to speak." He floated a little closer and sat cross-legged in the air at eye level to Iarfhlaith. "Did I tell you that I came to the Above to serve the prince?" Iarfhlaith shook his head from side to side, and sat to mimic Jasper's posture. "A long time ago," Jasper went on, "High King Oberon, he's your grandfather." Iarfhlaith nodded and smiled, and Jasper continued. "Well, your grandfather had a sister and _she_ wanted a little baby but didn't have anyone for his father, so she used magic to get him. It's complicated," he said, when Iarfhlaith frowned. He didn't know much, but he did know that _he _had two fathers. "So anyway, she took her baby prince and came up here and my family came, too. When the baby stopped being the little prince and became Mister Prince, we all went with different babies after they were born. That's how I ended up here, because it's my job to help the prince. And that's you. You're my prince," he finished triumphantly.

Iarfhlaith thought about everything Jasper just said. A lot of it was confusing, but he understood that Jasper was going to help him. That was very good. Jasper had helped him all along, since he'd first got here ages ago. It was much colder out now than when he'd first come and he was bigger, too. He'd heard ma'am say something about the winter holiday coming soon. He knew that winter was cold, because Daka said it was never winter in the Underground.

"Tank you berry much," Iarfhlaith told him, wishing he could hug is littler friend. "Tank you for being my pixie."

"I'm proud to be your pixie, my prince. So…about this present," Jasper teased, a mischievous look on his face. "You'll like it. Are you hungry?"

The very thought of food made Iarfhlaith's tummy rumble—loudly. "Food?" he asked cautiously. He'd learned his lesson with Ma'am. If he didn't act just right, or if Diddykins wanted it, she'd take the little bit of food she gave him away.

"Yep. All yours. I got some grapes out of the grocery bag when she came home today. You were asleep. And I got some more when she got some out for Mr. Fatty's pudding tonight. All you have to do to eat it is to call it to you," Jasper informed him smugly.

"I can't," Iarfhlaith gasped. "He hit me when I did it," he reminded Jasper, touching his cheekbone carefully. It still hurt a little, even though Jasper has sprinkled some sparklies on it to make it feel better. It hurt a _lot_ more before he did that, though, so Iarfhlaith was grateful.

"You shouldn't do it when _they_ can see you," Jasper countered. "But they can't see you in here."

Jasper waved his stick at the wall and lit up the thin shelf where Iarfhlaith could see a collection of different colored grapes. His Daky had given him grapes the last time he was with him, but he peeled the outside off of them. After his teeth grew, he could eat the peelings, too, like his Daky and Mummy and did that day.

"Can I eat peels, too?" he asked, just to be sure.

For a moment, Jasper didn't answer. He looked at the grapes, then at Iarfhlaith, then back at the grapes, arms crossed and tapping his foot in the air. After a little while of this, he finally waved his stick over the grapes and lots of bright, colorful sprinkles fell onto them and disappeared.

"Okay, now try," he said.

A loud gurgle sounded in the small space and Iarfhlaith giggled. Jasper snorted and then grinned at him, wiggling his funny eyebrows and rubbing his tummy. Iarfhlaith stuck his tongue out at Jasper and lifted his hand to call the grape. It moved a little, but didn't come to him. His tummy was hungry, more than that, he was hungry all over. Iarfhlaith lifted his hand and tried harder. Suddenly severalgrapes flew from the narrow shelf smacking him wetly. Carefully peeling them out of his shirt, Iarfhlaith cupped all but one, which he popped into his mouth. Eating each one alone was important, he'd been told. He should only eat one at a time, or else he could choke. That didn't sound like fun to him at all.

"That was pretty good," Jasper said proudly. "I didn't mean to make 'em so squishy, though." He waved his stick of the grapes again. Turning back to Iarfhlaith, he suggested, "Think about one grape." With a flick of his stick, one grape floated up. "That's one grape." With another swish, the grape floated down again. "Try it."

Picturing the single grape floating over to him, Iarfhlaith concentrated on the shelf. Right away, one grape lifted and bounced through the close space, stopping a little ways from his mouth. He reached up and plucked the grape out of the air, plopping it into his mouth happily.

"Very good!" Jasper crowed. "See if you can make it float straight into your mouth."

During the next hour, Iarfhlaith called the grapes to him and Jasper complimented and encouraged him as he floated, bounced, and shot the grapes through the air. Finally, Iarfhlaith curled up on his cushy little rug and Jasper waved his stick to clean all the grape drops off of him. For the first time in two months, Iarfhlaith drifted off to sleep with a full tummy and a smile on his face.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: Labyrinth and Harry Potter, belong to the original authors and creators and their associates. I only own this story.

Chapter Thirteen

As he reclined in Lucius Malfoy's sumptuous study enjoying a full bodied cup of very expensive tea, Severus quietly reflected on how much had changed over the last few years. He'd met the blond Slytherin as a first year, of course, during Lucius' sixth year. At that time, and for some time afterward, Lucius remained aloof, only involving himself in Severus' life during his fifth year, after his fight with Lily. Severus had joined the death eaters shortly thereafter, though he did not credit Lucius with recruiting him—a fact that had annoyed the other man a great deal, and impressed him just as much.

He'd been one of the youngest of Voldemort's followers, but had managed to remain detached, especially after he'd sworn himself to the Goblin King, though that tidbit wasn't known by anyone…yet. Lucius hadn't missed Severus' improved wardrobe, polished manners, all of it enhanced by his more confident demeanor. While The Dark Lord had assumed credit for the changes in Severus, Lucius had regarded him speculatively. Today, when Severus had approached Malfoy Manor's gate and offered a card to the elf that greeted him, he'd been escorted in and made comfortable while Lord Malfoy hurried to free himself for his unexpected visitor. It was amazing the impact that a crash course in etiquette and expensive robes could have on the elite.

"Severus, my friend!" Lucius exclaimed as he swept into the room, somehow managing to look both elegant and harried at the same time. Severus couldn't help but wonder if he practiced the swanning entrance and genteelly over taxed expression in private.

With unhurried movements, Severus set his teacup aside and stood to greet his host. His measured actions made it clear that the courtesy of standing was offered as a guest in Lucius' home and not the act of a social inferior.

Severus smirked at Lucius questioning look and inclined his head slightly. "It was gracious of you to see me on such short notice, Lucius."

"I had no doubt that your purpose for calling would be both worthy and stimulating," Lucius returned.

He moved to take his seat in the throne-like William and Mary chair across from Severus, and then paused midway, eyes on Severus' face. With an approving nod, Severus sat, followed as second later by his host. This was one of the many things Severus loved about being a Slytherin, and indeed, all true political interaction. There was so much said in the nuances of action and reaction that any conversation was often incidental. Not this time, however. His Majesty had tired of Dumbledore's evasions, though the old man didn't know quite whom he was thwarting.

"Indeed it is, Lucius. I believe I'll start with the hook, shall I?" Severus asked, arching a brow.

Lucius' brow furrowed in confusion for a split second before he leaned back in his chair and entwined his fingers comfortably over his stomach. "Please do," he said pompously.

"Certainly," Severus chuckled. "How would you like to associate yourself with a true and powerful king and see Dumbledore in pieces by the end of it?"

Eyes widening with every word, Lucius blinked repeatedly apparently dumbfounded. His gaze remained fixed on Severus as he called for his elf. "Dobby, my guest and I require a carafe of fire-whiskey and glasses," he ordered sharply at the creature's appearance. The little elf popped away without a word. A carafe of copper colored liquid along with a large, full tumbler of whisky appeared on the table beside Lucius with an identical tumbler full of drink beside Severus. "If you would, Severus," Lucius prompted with an encouraging wave of his hand.

Severus snorted and shook his head, but continued. "You might have noticed that about four years ago, many things about me began to change—my appearance improved and my demeanor as well, even my clothing." Lucius nodded, looking intrigued as he sipped at his fire-whisky. Severus couldn't miss his friend's slow perusal of the finely made pale silver robe and boots he wore. After a sip of his own whiskey, Severus continued. "It was at that time that I was approached by a member of my family of whom I had never been aware, or I should say, to whom I never knew was related. It seems that my mother's lineage stemmed from a member of the fae royal family. The originator of Prince line was a male child born to the sister of High King Oberon of the Underground. My cousin, King Jareth, ruler of the Goblin Nation and Master of the Labyrinth, has taken me under his wing and made me godfather to his son and heir."

Lucius nodded sagely as he calmly lifted his drink and gulped down the remainder of whiskey in the glass. After a stunned moment of silence, he began to cough and wheeze while steam poured from his ears. Severus sipped his drink and waited. As expected, Lucius did not disappoint.

"Is that all?" Lucius inquired politely, dabbing at his face with a fine spun handkerchief, his voice still slightly hoarse.

"Why no, as it happens," Severus smirked. "There's more. Would you like to hear it?" Although he was quite impressed with Lucius' aplomb, this was the most fun Severus had had in quite some time.

With shaking hands, Lucius lifted the carafe, slopping more whiskey into his tumbler. Replacing the cut glass bottle on the table he responded, "I'm curious, yes. Pray continue."

Fighting a smile, Severus nodded placidly. "The king had two other cousins from his line, both living here in the Above. Can you guess who?" Severus' audience of one lifted an inquiring brow, his face a study in polite interest, though his eyes had a wild look to them. "He had a cousin from his mother's family—a lovely girl that many mistook for a muggleborn. In addition, his father's brother began a line, ending in one man. He, my remaining cousin, was at Hogwarts while I was. What is curious about this is that he and I hated each other so much that we rendered one another sterile during our ongoing rivalry." He smirked at Lucius once again, fighting an all out grin as the man opposite downed a large swallow of the potent whiskey. "Before their marriage, they agreed to join in parenthood with His Majesty. With fae magic, our king transferred his seed to my cousin. The child born of the union is very much King Jareth's son, and heir to not only the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth, but ultimately the High Throne. Can you guess who that child is, Lucius?"

"Merciful Zeus," the blond managed in a thready whisper. His voice rose shrilly as he added, "Harry Potter is the Prince of the Underground and the Goblin Nation and Dumbledore has kidnapped him?" The cut glass tumbler slipped from Lucius' nerveless fingers, bouncing along the fine Persian carpet unnoticed.

"Yes."

Rocketing to his feet, Lucius paced jerkily to the fireplace and then back to his chair, clutching the backrest. "Dumbledore has obliviated all knowledge of the boy save his name and the…reported events of that night. He's gone so far as to remove his own memory of the child's placement," Lucius panted out. Calming a bit, he added, "Or so he says, anyway. Dobby!"

The bedraggled elf popped in, caught Lucius' eye and followed it to the overturned tumbler. Snapping his fingers, he replaced the spilled whiskey and dropped glass with a fresh, full drink. At the same time, the whiskey carafe refilled, as did Severus drink, already in his hand. With a decisive nod, the little elf popped away. Severus caught the faint scent of paint thinner as he vanished and realized that the creature must have been involved in some intricate and especially filthy task. One never knew what Lucius' elves would think needed painting and repairing in the absence of a direct order.

Taking a sip of his drink, Severus regarded the Malfoy lord for a long moment before setting his glass aside. "You've gone to a great deal of trouble to gather information on the child, Lucius." He let the statement hang, lifting a brow in speculation. Whatever his former comrade had to say now would either cause Severus to erase his memory or buy Lucius an audience with the Goblin King.

Lucius stared at Severus for countless seconds before releasing a heavy breath and reseating himself. "Yes," he said finally. "I have." Lucius' quicksilver eyes looked off, over Severus' shoulder. "You may not know this…perhaps your king doesn't know it," his gaze shifted back to Severus. "James Potter had an older sister. Much older. Her name was Eveleen and she was a Ravenclaw. My father was…" he took a deep breath and turned his head for a moment, oddly overcome by some emotion. After a short time, he shook his head and continued. "Father fought hard for the contract with her father. He vowed to serve the light and push through any number of muggleborn laws or forfeit his life and magic in return for her hand. His own father suffered a stroke when he read the betrothal contract," Lucius said with a faint twist of his lips. Across from him, Severus was riveted. Of everything he'd expected this day, these revelations were by far the last thing he could have imagined. He hardly dared even breathe as Lucius continued his tale. "Ultimately, he agreed to bond with both Eveleen Potter and her best friend whom you know is my mother. Both women became pregnant at the same time. My sister Lucia was born a week after me…it was nearly our third birthday, the day she and her mother…_my mother_...Eveleen was that to me, as much as Colette Malfoy ever was...They were killed by Aurors during a raid on my great aunt's house. We'd gone for tea, but the Aurors suspected a dark gathering, it seems. Eveleen and Lucia were murdered before my very eyes by the beacons of the light side that my father had sworn to support." He paused and took a long sip of his nearly empty drink. "Father accepted The Dark Lord's overtures immediately after the funeral. With her death by a Light sided Auror at the behest of Dumbledore, yes," he answered Severus' shocked look, "Dumbledore was the one who "tipped" the DMLE off to the _dark_ _gathering_. That action, or collection of actions, nullified the betrothal contract. Needless to say, the Light doesn't speak about Eveleen, or Lucia for that matter. That is why I never fought with James Potter, nor spoke when his name came from the Dark Lord's lips."

"In memory of Eveleen, then?" Severus mused aloud. "Is that why you're looking for the child now?"

"He is my family!" Lucius roared, slamming his tumbler down on the end table. "That child is my cousin, whether Eveleen and Lucia lived or not," he said in a more even tone. "He is also a Black, through his grandmother, Dorea, and therefore my son's cousin as well. I'll be damned if I let a wizard child of my family be locked away somewhere in the muggle world, out of touch with his people and his traditions until that devious old chess master decides it's time to put him on the board." Lucius stood, fixing his attention on the important task of refilling his and Severus' glasses.

"That is more information than I could verify yesterday, Lucius," Severus assured him when Lucius sat once again, raising his generous drink in a salute. Lucius inclined his head minutely. "Shall I tell His Majesty that you are interested in joining our campaign against Dumbledore as we continue to search for Iarfhlaith? The child was never named Harry—that was simply Potter's nickname for him."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Lucius sighed. "Harry is acceptable as a nickname I'm sure, but as a given name…" he shuddered. "Yes, please tell His Majesty that I'd like to join him."

Rolling his eyes, Severus told him, "The prince's full name is Iarfhlaith James Hearareth Potter. His Majesty added the third name as something of a compromise for Potter. I suppose to excuse the moniker of Harry. Lucius, you should know that His Majesty will require an oath of fealty before he will trust you," he warned.

"Yes, yes," Lucius agreed irritably.

"The Dark Lord could return, Lucius. His body may have gone, but he left a resonance behind."

"The Goblin King will provide a safe haven for his people? Look after their families?" Lucius questioned intensely.

"He will," Severus assured him.

"Excellent."A slow, cruel smile curved Lucius' mouth as his eyes took on a merciless glint. "Then let the games begin."

KT KT KT KT KT

"No! Don't touch it, My Prince!"

At Jasper's frightened warning, Iarfhlaith jerked his hand back. The momentum of his sudden movement overbalanced him and he plopped onto his rear-end. Thankfully, they were in Mrs. Figg's backyard and not on the sidewalk or that really might have hurt. He tilted his head and considered the animal while waiting for Jasper to explain. He could tell that there was something different about this cat compared to all of the others that inhabited the small house and grounds, but he didn't know what. His pixie friend seemed to know everything, and luckily, nobody but Iarfhlaith could hear him. Iarfhlaith didn't understand all the reasons why that was. Anyway, he didn't care. Jasper was always with him life was much better that way.

"Different," he mumbled, looking from two of the regular feline residents and back to the prim tabby that sat so neatly and still in front of him.

Had they been in his cupboard, Iarfhlaith would have asked for more information and verbalized his own impressions of the situation. Princes were expected to be articulate after all. However, he'd learned through watching Dudley and his play dates how normal, as opposed to freakish, little boys were supposed to behave. That meant Iarfhlaith should not speak more than one word at a time, and less than that whenever possible. When Ma'am, along with he and Dudley, were inside the house and otherwise alone, he was to do whatever he was told, advanced and freakish or not. Most of the time, of course, he was locked under the stairs with Jasper, so his behavior was moot to all but his pixie companion. Mrs. Figg's house meant outside, and Jasper had warned him that it wasn't safe to be himself here.

"She's not really a cat, Prince," Jasper explained as he fluttered over to Iarfhlaith's shoulder. "She's a wizard woman, called a witch, who is pretending to be a cat. You can see the sparkly things all around her. They're called Nargles. We'll talk about them later, but right now, just know that when you see them, it means there's some kind of magic trying to make you believe or feel or think something that isn't so." In a lower voice, Jasper added, "She was there the night they left you. She turned into a thin woman with dark hair and spectacles."

Iarfhlaith scooted backward when the cat stood up, crab-walking in his attempt to get away from her. If she was someone who thought it was okay to keep him from his Daka and leave him with those horrible people, she was a dangerous creature indeed.

"Harry! Is everything all right, dearie?" Mrs. Figg, who Iarfhlaith suspected had been watching him the entire time, had come out to the yard. "Did you fall over?" She lifted him to his feet and began to dust him off.

"Different kitty," he said, remembering just in time not to say _cat_. Dudley always said kitty and it was always safe to limit himself to Dudley's abilities when around other people.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Mrs. Figg babbled, lifting him with one arm and dusting his bum enthusiastically with the other hand. Jasper fluttered up in alarm, as if he wanted to do something but wasn't sure what was needed. "Of course you're uneasy about a strange kitty, you clever little dearie!" Mrs. Figg cooed, thankfully setting him on his feet and giving the witch-cat a look and a nod. "You've only ever seen my special kitties, haven't you? Now, then, let's get you inside and fed, there's a sweet little love! I'm sure you're just starving, aren't you sweetie?"

Iarfhlaith looked around desperately for Jasper, more than a little disheartened as his pixie shrugged and hovered just above the old lady's shoulder. They were both along for this ride and helpless to resist whatever Mrs. Figg had in store for them next. How he _hated _being lugged here and plopped there without the slightest consideration for what he wanted.

It wasn't long before he and Jasper lay snuggled on the sitting room sofa feigning sleep and listening to Mrs. Figg chattering away. The tabby cat had morphed into a tall, thin Scotswoman right in front of them, just moments ago. Right away, she'd leaned over Iarfhlaith and stroked his cheek, all the while muttering about Albus and "the worst kind of muggles."

Jasper whispered, "Tell you later," as they both trained their attention on the cat woman.

Finally she moved across to the kitchen area which wasn't a separate room and easy to observe from Iarfhlaith's faux cocoon directly across from the table. "Sit down, Minerva," Mrs. Figg ordered the other woman as she bustled between the stove and table, setting out tea paraphernalia. "I'll pour the tea and you can fix it yourself while you tell me what brings you here today. You nearly frightened the little lad senseless!"

"Och! Dinnae haver so, Arabella!" When Mrs. Figg huffed and put a hand on her hip, looking blankly at the woman called Minerva, the woman who'd been a cat made a slight growling noise and shook her head. "Don't talk such nonsense," she translated. "The boy wasn't frightened, simply cautious. As you pointed out, I _do_ look a great deal different than your kneazles. Wee ones are like that, as you should know."

"A kneazle is a magic cat that's tons smarter," Jasper whispered. "Their heads are bigger since their brains are bigger." Iarfhlaith aimed a quick look at Jasper and then back at the women, careful to keep his eyes mostly closed. They'd long ago worked out how to pretend-sleep, so they could hear more. Many times, Iarfhlaith had learned important things about the people he lived with and their plans, simply by seeming to nap.

"I'm surprised you were able to find your way here, Minerva," Mrs. Figg was saying now. "I was given to understand that Albus had erased Harry's whereabouts, address and all, from everyone involved in his placement—including himself. He told me so months ago, in fact. _After_ he installed me here," she added in a grumble.

There was silence for a moment as the two women stirred their tea and passed cream and sugar. "He has, of course," Minerva finally answered. She looked at the other woman intensely, her hands stilled. "We're sisters, Arabella." Reaching a shaky hand across the table, Minerva took Mrs. Figg's hand in hers. "I nearly married Arwel, just to keep you safe. He was _your_ brother, but not mine own. I liked him well enough, as you know."

Mrs. Figg had a shocked look on her face. "I thought you loved him, Minerva…I know he was older. I barely knew him myself, really. The date was set. You were so devastated…"

"He was a cold one, Arwel was. We had but one thing in common, sister. That was you. He bargained you for an heir, and I agreed. The man I loved…" the starchy woman sighed and looked into her tea. "The man I loved killed Arwel, along with a great many others. Your life was his gift to me," she whispered hoarsely. "I hated that he'd killed on my behalf…and that I lost the raising of my baby sister as a result." She sighed. "But you lived, and that was enough."

Silence descended on the small house for a pregnant moment and Iarfhlaith thought he'd drift off to nap when suddenly Mrs. Figg pushed her chair back and stood, stooping to wrap her arms around the Scottish woman from behind. "I love you, Minerva." Pulling away, she turned to the cabinet, taking down a plate and a square tin. "Now then, we'll have to have some of these biscuits that you know I order especially for you."

"You spoil me, Arabella."

"Hmm. Turn about must be fair play, in that case. Now, tell me how it is you can still find me when Albus was only too sorry that I'd lose touch with you unless I visited when young Harry was snug abed with his family?" the younger of the two demanded, though Iarfhlaith thought Mrs. Figg looked much older than Minerva.

Minerva took the time to serve herself a biscuit and moaned in pleasure over the taste. She might have gone on about it longer but Mrs. Figg looked very severe for a woman who always wore a housecoat and tartan slippers.

"It's simple really, Arabella," Minerva finally told her. "Your kneazles, and you, have become my…well, my pride, as it were. This is my territory. All cats have a territory, you know. Albus removed the memory of _Harry's_ location, but it's impossible to take away an animal's instinct, and therefore, the same applies to an animagus in animal form. I don't know where the bairn lives, but I'll always find you." She sipped her tea for a moment while the other woman nodded. "Nobody looking for him will ever find him inside the blood wards Albus put up, but if he's with you, I'll see him. I suppose if he travelled outside of the wards for some reason, he might be found. But that would be why Albus cast a compelling charm on the note he wrote, suggesting that Harry's family leave him here if they went very far."

"That nasty old buzzard!" Jasper shouted. Iarfhlaith knew nobody else could hear him, but his bellow alarmed and surprised him anyhow. His entire body jerked and one of the women rose to check on him. Iarfhlaith didn't know which because he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his stomach so that they wouldn't see his face at all. When whoever it was returned to her seat, Jasper explained his upset. "I'm sorry, Prince, but that's how come you can't wish for the king, or even wish yourself home. Wizard wards are mostly runes and intentions which make them hard to penetrate. With blood added in the mix, it's almost impossible."

Curling up in a tight ball, Iarfhlaith tried with all his might not to cry. It wasn't like anything had really changed, right? He had no more or less hope than he'd had yesterday…but hearing it out loud was nearly devastating to him.

"Don't cry, Prince," Jasper whispered. "We know important things now. She said that if we travel outside the wards, they won't work. We just have to figure out how to do that."

Holding his breath until the urge to weep out loud had passed, Iarfhlaith managed to nod, relaxing just slightly. It might take longer, but they could do it. He wasn't alone. Actually, he was one step closer to finding his Daka. If only he wasn't so tired, maybe he could figure it out today.

Jasper's magic sprinkled over him as Iarfhlaith's eyes drifted closed. From right beside his ear, his best friend began to sing, "_It's only forever, not long at all…_"

No, Iarfhlaith realized, picturing the neat green hedges and angular walls and stones below him looking down from his Daka's safe arms. Forever wouldn't be long at all now.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The old goblin folded the letter he'd just read, indecision plaguing him for the first time in a long time.

For so long, he'd held himself aloof, not distant so much as above the rest of his hoard. It was the goblin way. While the king was their ultimate ruler, Ragnoc was immediately in charge. Very few of the goblins in his hoard even knew his real name. Ragnoc, much like Jareth, was more an amalgam of the name given him by his parents, along with the name he'd earned from his most important conquest.

All this musing aside, Ragnoc had a duty to attend. The week prior to her death, the Lady Mother had presented him with a box containing twenty letters which he was to prepare and mail once a week, until they were gone or she advised him otherwise. At one point, she had fixed him with a long, unnerving look. Apparently satisfied, she told him that both she and the friend she was writing understood that it was his duty to inspect the letters as he saw fit. That had been the last time she'd spoken with anyone aside from the little prince, her lord husband, or their murderer.

The first letter Ragnoc had simply addressed, sealed, and mailed through the muggle postal service. The second letter was to go out the day after her death. He'd hesitated for a moment, and then opened it. She had given her leave to inspect them as he saw fit, so he did. When the young woman replied, Ragnoc read it as well, wondering if he should contact her and inform her of the Lady Mother's death. After a brief consideration followed by a quick scan of the next letter in the box, Ragnoc decided to mail it and wait. She'd said to send them all until otherwise advised. He would follow her direction as best he could. In the meantime, her words helped him feel much closer to her, the Lady Mother, as well her friend.

Not only that, he got a view of both the young prince and King Jareth that he wouldn't have had before. While goblins, especially Aboveground goblins, were not known to be loving or emotional, they had fixed ideas on the treatment of children, and most especially, the royal family. Ragnoc was quite honored to have this insight.

He'd known His Majesty for many years, but as a subordinate, never as closely as the familial view from these letters. This understanding could only help the Goblin Nation to serve their ruler better. Of course, Miss Sarah's letters provided tips and hints at things that muggles liked which, in turn, suggested various investments. It was for the good of his people and his customers, and Ragnoc would never ignore such opportunity when it came his way. He saw it as a tribute to the Lady Lily and quietly added Miss Sarah Williams to the very short list of humans who could be considered "Friends of the Goblin Nation".

Now, however, the elderly goblin had been given another duty. The last letter in the box had been addressed to him. He shouldn't have been surprised. Still, it wasn't often that a goblin received personal correspondence from a witch or wizard, even an important goblin such as Gringotts' director and leader of the Aboveground hoard, second only to the king. For one thing, it was impertinent for any wizard to think he'd want to exchange personal mail with them. A letter from the Lady Mother, however, especially a posthumous letter, was an honor, and Ragnoc opened it reverently.

Lily Potter had indicated in her letter that she would be killed, though of course she wasn't sure when. It was a small thing, comparatively, but Ragnoc was glad she hadn't known how little time she had. She'd also told him that by now, he'd had time to get to know her friend Sarah. If he were younger he might have blushed, but with his world experience, he simply chuckled. She had been wily-a very worthy mother to their prince. The letter instructed Ragnoc not to reveal Lily's connection with the goblin kingdom, although Sarah apparently possibly had some association to King Jareth. She deemed it His Majesty's choice and responsibility to reveal his own secrets. All of that aside, he _was_ expected to write Sarah as compassionate a letter as he could manage after he read her final missive. It was not a duty that Ragnoc looked forward to. He'd never shirked a responsibility before and he wouldn't now, no matter how much he truly wished he could. With that in mind, he pulled out his finest parchment and quill and began to write.

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Like every other letter from London, Sarah waited until she was alone to read it which might or might not have been a very good thing.

Something about this latest letter filled Sarah with dread. OF course, it was slightly different than Lily's usual notes. The seal was a different color, for starters. It just _felt_ ominous.

Sarah had already cleaned her little apartment from top to bottom. Frankly, that enterprise had been wasted at the outset. The place was already remarkably clean for being the home of a single twenty-three year old. Sadly, the bulk of her social circle included a fox, a dwarf, and a beast of unknown species. Those were the only souls to visit with any sort of regularity. Anyone else, she met at the town watering hole or at work. Seldom if ever did her coworkers come to her place. A single visit from the Goblin King had killed any possibility of dating and fueled a vast number of romantic and erotic fantasies. Now, if she could only work up the courage to wish him over again...But for now, she had a letter to read.

As Sarah numbly reread the letter a third time, the meaning of the words began to truly sink in. Lily was dead. Not coming back. Little Iarfhlaith was gone, too. The letter said they'd both been attacked. Apparently, there had been a quiet send off…

Sarah couldn't move, couldn't think. How long she sat there, before wadding up the letter and throwing it across the room, she didn't know. Nor did she realize when she began to sob, somehow slipping off the chair and onto the floor, her tea cold and untouched on the end table. She could hear herself mumbling denials, but it was distant, as if someone had taken her over. Lily couldn't be dead, she just couldn't. The two of them had plans—so many plans. They were to meet again for shopping! Every year they would, no excuses. And that sweet little boy...he was going to be in her pre-school class. He wanted to, and he'd promised. _He had promised._

Strong arms came around her, lifting her, murmuring sweet words of comfort. Vaguely, she recognized Jareth's voice. Perhaps she should have been shocked, but she couldn't be, really, could she? This couldn't possibly be real, any of it. Lily and her baby prince were in hiding, not dead. Jareth was a king, he didn't cuddle and comfort bratty former Labyrinth runners, no matter whether they won or not. No, it was all a horrible dream and she would wake up. Not until after Jareth stopped singing, though, she hoped. But after that, she would wake up for sure. With those thoughts calming her, Sarah relaxed and pressed her ear to his chest letting the sound, feel, and scent of him calm and soothe her.

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It hadn't been a wish, precisely, that had alerted Jareth to Sarah's need of him. Instead, it had been a promise he'd made years ago even as he fought to stay in character and remain the taunting enemy she needed to drive her closer to maturity. The song, though, had been written for decades, never to be sung, or so he'd thought. When the music and magic swirled from her after Sarah had taken a bite from the hallucination-inducing peach, something in her dream had called to him.

Her innermost desire had called to him in the most primal way and he'd found himself singing his own dream to her. As he held her and looked into her eyes, he sung his vow to be there for her in her times of greatest need. In that moment, Jareth had known that she was meant for him, as unlikely as it seemed. When Sarah turned from him, he tried to smirk, but it had hurt, as if she'd gripped his heart and squeezed. She'd been so young, so innocent. Nevertheless, he made his promise in magic and music just as his parents had several millennia before. It didn't matter if she understood or reciprocated…well, yes it did, but he had no control over that. The years would be on his side this time and he would be patient, as all of his kind must be, given the longevity of the Fae.

"_Falling in love…_" Jareth let his voice trail off into a low humming as he rocked her in the chair he'd adapted.

Sarah's emotional devastation had called to him just as he'd conjured a crystal to view the first major salvo in war against his son's kidnapper. There had been minor strikes, of course, but this one should be much more than a simple nuisance to the "esteemed" headmaster. No matter. Severus would be only too glad to fill him in as they watched the events from a recording crystal later.

"Jareth?" Sarah's voice was small in the quiet room—a thready sound, cracked and broken.

"I'm here, precious," he murmured, brushing a tears from under her eye with an ungloved finger.

"She's gone," she whispered. "So young…she was my friend. We knew each other, almost instantly. She was happy, beautiful, peaceful and loving."

Her eyes had slipped closed as she melted against him, still mumbling about her friend. "She must have been truly special to earn your friendship," he murmured, rocking the chair slowly. At least he knew now what the trouble was. Perhaps later, much later, he'd find out more about this friend of hers. His heart ached for his own lost loved ones and he wished he could have spared her such pain.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Her question was muffled against his chest and he barely heard her; it took a moment to puzzle the words out.

"I don't think so, precious Sarah." At his response, her brow furrowed and she clung tighter to him. "I'll leave a crystal for you, shall I?"

Tilting her head away, she looked up at him, though he could tell it took great effort. No doubt he looked like a bleary smear to her.

"You'll sing my song in it?"

Jareth tried to hide his start of surprise by shifting her closer to him. Did she realize? Could she know? More important than eating the peach his magic had called up, he'd passed through her—as an illusion, yes, but it was his magic even so. Not only that, she had caught the dream crystal that he'd thrown, letting it dissolve on the palm of her dominant hand. It was a long-held Fae belief that accepting magic into the right hand knowingly would lead to a life imbued with that magic. Could it be that his magic and her dreams had become so interspersed?

This was not the time to ponder such things, no matter how distracting the thought was. It was difficult, but Jareth forced himself to put the matter aside as he pushed to his feet. Sarah automatically slid her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'll sing it for you now if you promise to sleep. Would you like that?"

"Promise…"

The search for her bedroom was a short one since her little apartment only contained four rooms, counting the bathroom. A flick of his finger turned down the comforter and he slid her beneath it, exchanging her dress for a nightgown only after her body was covered. He wanted to see every inch of her—there could be no doubt about that—but only if she wanted it as well. Anything less would be puerile and meaningless.

Stretching out on his side next to her atop the blanket, Jareth couldn't help but smile as she turned toward him. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead and once again began to sing.

"_There's such a sad love…"_

As she began to doze, he faded away leaning in for one last kiss pressed lightly against her parted lips. When she awoke, she would find a crystal beside her. If she touched it, he would begin to sing their song to her, stopping when she desired. Every time he came to her, he left a little more of his heart behind with her. He only hoped that, one day, she would accept his whole heart into her keeping.

She had her dreams and he had his. Perhaps they weren't that different after all.

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"What do you think would happen if Dudders wished?" Iarfhlaith asked Jasper. They could still hear the sound of Ma'am's heels clicking as she walked away after checking that Iarfhlaith 's cupboard was locked.

Today was the other boy's third birthday, so there would be a cake to go with the huge mound of presents stacked in the sitting room. Needless to say, Iarfhlaith and by default, Jasper, were not welcome. Who knew what excuse Ma'am would give, not that it mattered.

The pixie appeared to ponder the idea for a moment. "Hmm, what if he wished? Well, I doubt anything would happen really. He isn't magic and he doesn't believe in magic either. So that's two strikes against him. If a wish was going to be answered, it would be yours, of course. The wizard wards probably keep your wishes inside. His Majesty might know you wished but not what or where. His Majesty wouldn't feel fat-boy's wish at all."

Jasper always, _always_ called Dudders "fat-boy" and he always said it with disgust. While it was Jasper's studied opinion that the other boy could try to resist being such a spoiled little prat, Iarfhlaith wanted to reserve judgment. Well, he _had_ wanted to reserve judgment, until the spoiled little butterball had walloped him good, pushed him in the mud, and then cried to his mummy that the freak—_freak_ was apparently Iarfhlaith's nickname—had tried to bully him. That bald-faced lie had earned Iarfhlaith a handful of swats from Ma'am and another sound thrashing from the huge man also known as Sir. In addition, he hadn't gotten lunch or supper that day and the next morning's rations were slim to say the least. The only good part about his punishment would be that he had also been confined to his cupboard, with short excursions to the potty twice a day.

Thank heaven for Jasper. No matter what the people in the house thought, Iarfhlaith would not go hungry. The incarceration would also give Iarfhlaith time to heal and rest.

Not only that, his enforced quietude had given Iarfhlaith time to realize that it didn't matter whose fault Dudders' behavior was because the end result left Iarfhlaith with a nasty, mean, spoiled, bullying nightmare which he would have to navigate as best he could, and it wouldn't be easy.

While the two discussed the situation, Jasper continued to help him with his magic. In time, he might be able to influence Dudders away from him and on to more constructive pursuits. A boy could hope, couldn't he?

"How long do you think it will take to get around these wizard wards?" Iarfhlaith asked finally. The noise from the party beyond the cupboard swelled as the sound of childish screams and noisemakers filled the air. "It'll be time for my next birthday soon, won't it?"

"It will," Jasper answered solemnly. "I wish I had better things to say, Prince. We know that the wizard wards are all over this street and the next one, or the bathrobe lady's house wouldn't be under them."

Iarfhlaith sighed and looked away. His eyes prickled but he forced the emotion down. He was a prince, not a crybaby—a prince in a cage according to Jasper, but Iarfhlaith couldn't argue that, especially from within the locked cupboard.

All at once, a solution occurred to him. "Can you feel them? How far away from me can you go?" He fought down his excitement, but this was important.

"Why…" Jasper's voice squeaked and he cleared his throat. "Why would you want me to go away from you? You won't be safe! Aren't I doing a good job? I'll do better, Prince, I swear…"

Instinctively, Iarfhlaith thrust his hand out, palm up, capturing Jasper in the center of a calming crystal. The little pixie's eyes got round as saucers and he plopped down on the bottom of the crystal sphere, fluttering in place as it dissolved.

"Are you better now?" Iarfhlaith asked cautiously.

"You did it," Jasper whispered. "Not even three and you already conjured a crystal." Shifting suddenly, Jasper sank to the floor in front of Iarfhlaith, kneeling prostate. "Your Majesty," he intoned, his voice ringing with awe.

"Jasper, stop. Daka does it all the time. You're…my friend, my pixie. You're you. Just don't… don't do that."

"Sire!" Jasper gasped shooting up to hover in front of Iarfhlaith. "Not even most Underground born princes can call up crystals until they get lots older. Only your father, King Jareth, has done it since long before even King Oberon."

"Oh." Iarfhlaith considered this for a moment, though it didn't really make a big difference to him. His daka had said he'd do it and he had. "Well, that's what I need you for. How would I know that? And without you, I probably still wouldn't do it for ages."

"So…so you're not kicking me out?" Jasper asked cautiously.

"Of course not! Why would I do something that stupid? You think I'm stupid, don't you?" he asked, insulted.

"Um, what?" Jasper fluttered forward to look closely into Iarfhlaith's eyes. "I don't think you're stupid. Why would you think I mean that?"

"I'd be lost, hungry, alone, and maybe dead without you, Jasper. You know that. These people don't want me to live. If they did, they might feed me more often…Anyhow, I just came up with an idea I thought we could try."

"Oops. Sorry?"

Rolling his eyes, Iarfhlaith waved the whole thing away. He would never really understand the pixie's thought processes. Or maybe he would, after he was his Daka's age.

"I figured we could try to see how far you could go because there's no way I can get anywhere alone. They don't let me. But when we go outside, you can fly around and see if you can find the edge of the wards. Then we'll know where we have to go to get away."

"Oh wow! That's brilliant!" Jasper gasped. "I'll start tonight, after you go to sleep. I can put a spell to make the cupboard door stick. It'll go nicely with that squeaky board right in front of the opening."

"I don't know why you're worried about it, Jasper," Iarfhlaith grumbled. "I don't know what that fat man thought he wanted with me in the middle of the night anyway, but you took care of it when you put his foot through the floor."  
"It doesn't matter what he wanted," Jasper countered. "Nothing good happens in the middle of the night. You should know that by now."

"You're right, I should."

He'd been scared to death that night. The big man's footsteps were louder than anyone else's, especially at night. Iarfhlaith often wondered if Jasper had spelled them that way. But when they'd come to a stop in front of his cupboard after the others had gone to bed, Iarfhlaith had been terrified. The pixie had waved his little stick just as the door had opened and the man had fallen through the floor, shouting the house down. After the damage had been repaired, both to the floor and eventually, the man, a loud, high echoing sound was heard whenever anyone trod on the boards around his cupboard after eleven at night. It didn't matter how many carpenters looked at it or even replaced the floorboards, the sound remained.

"Good." Jasper crossed his arms, a serious look on his face. "We have a plan."

Iarfhlaith grinned. "Yes. A plan. It might take awhile, but we're that much closer, aren't we?"

**A/N: **My apologies for such a long wait. PC issues wait for no man. I hope to have another chapter up very soon. It's high time we saw Dumbledore suffer just a bit, isn't it? I know this is a slow-paced fic, but that's just the way it is. I never know till I'm done how long a story will be.

I do want to thank all the readers who've added me to alert or favorite. A huge thanks to the reviewers, also. If I didn't answer your review, I apologize. I had the hard drive replaced which meant I didn't know who I'd answered and who I didn't. Anyhow, thanks, and btw, I don't own the folks from HP or Labyrinth. Just so you know…


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: **My apologies for the long wait. I still don't own any of the recognizable characters. Nor do I own some of the lesser-recognized characters, since they're based on names and histories referenced in the Harry Potter series.

Chapter Fifteen

"I've had just about enough of you, boy!"

All Iarfhlaith could do was back away, trying to be as little as possible. He hadn't meant to hurt Dudders, much less call him fat-boy. The offensive lump had been going behind him with a bucket of dirt from the garden, throwing it on the floor each time Iarfhlaith vacuumed a portion of the carpet. The machine was huge and unwieldy as it was and his three-year old body was barely up to the task. Ma'am and the fat man had debated long and hard about ways for him to earn his spot in the cupboard. Thankfully, dishes and kitchen work had been deemed off-limits, aside from sweeping and moping. He wasn't all that good at those either, but was much less likely to break things if he kept his distance from the plates and glasses.

"I didn't mean to," he choked out, hoping against hope that the huge man would relent.

"You and your freakishness! Using that-that unnatural, obscene…_On_ _my_ _son_!" the fat man bellowed nearly incoherently.

Some part of Iarfhlaith's mind scoffed at the obese man while the rest of the little boy shrunk back, knowing that he stood a better chance if he appeared to be frightened. It wouldn't be much of an act, of course. He was rightfully terrified.

The sad part was, all he'd done was snap at Dudders to leave him alone and then cleaned the boy, the bucket of dirt, and the carpet by tossing a crystal. It was just instinct, really. He and Jasper had worked long hours to keep Iarfhlaith's magic under control. It was hard not to hurt the other boy—it would be so easy. Instead, he'd done something completely benign, and frankly, very helpful. It wouldn't hurt Dudders at all. But the porky thing had shrieked as if Iarfhlaith had come at him with a knife.

"Little bastard!" the man roared, swiping at Iarfhlaith with a huge, meaty hand.

Iarfhlaith felt himself lift, felt the impact of the club-like hand when it hit his head. As if from a great distance, he saw exploding flashes in front of his eyes, red blood spray from his mouth and nose, and he heard a ringing in his ears louder than the telephone at night. His last coherent thought was a fervent wish that Jasper would get back quick. Maybe being separated wasn't a good idea after all.

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Albus Dumbledore shook his head in annoyance when he spied the pile of bloody rags that seemed to be Harry Potter. "Where does he usually sleep?" he asked brusquely. He'd expected no better from muggles and especially _these_ muggles which was why the boy was placed here. Still, every time they lived down to his expectations, Albus fought the urge to reexamine his political stance on muggle and muggleborn rights. There were so many of them…If only he could eradicate the violent vermin and still be considered light and noble.

Before moving the boy, Albus turned to the cowering threesome. The youngest still keened shrilly behind his mother's legs, snot and tears washing down his shiny pink face. Disgusting. Well, happily, this would be easily dealt with.

Raising his wand, Albus said quietly, "_Obliviate_." The two adults stood straight, looking ahead vacantly. When the little butterball continued to sniffle and keen, Albus growled in impatience. "Look at me, boy!" he ordered. The fat little muggle yelped and flattened itself against the wall behind his mother, mouth dropping open stupidly. "Good enough," Albus snapped. "_Obliviate_." He stepped away quickly to check the Potter boy. It didn't look like he would die in the next few moments, so Albus turned back to the muggles and considered the situation.

A scan of the big one's mind told him that some sort of accidental magic had taken place. The man was apparently proud of his spawn's antics, throwing dirt on a clean carpet simply to antagonize the other boy who was meant to be cleaning. A look at the horse-faced woman's thoughts showed a smug and petty satisfaction. She loved having the magic person as her servant. It felt good to demean the boy, according to this worthless muggle. Under other circumstances, Albus would love nothing more than to put the skinny shrew in her place. Certainly, according to his beliefs and the detailed plans of his youth, there could be no doubt that wizard-kind was far superior to the likes of her. With a monumental effort, Albus forced himself back to the task at hand.

"It was great fun to watch the boy work so hard, but he used accidental magic, upsetting your family," he began, looking between Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley. Focusing on Vernon, Albus went on, "You hit him too hard and caused him to bleed, possibly even breaking a bone. You've put him in his cupboard…" here Albus couldn't help but grind his teeth and recover himself. Even though the poor treatment of a wizard child grated on him, this outlandish behavior played into his hands. Maybe later, after the boy's death, he could make an example of these people. He'd have to think on it. "You'll leave him in his cupboard to heal himself. In the future, you won't hit him quite so hard as you don't want to leave marks that can't be explained by roughhousing. Wouldn't want the neighbors to see, now, would we?"

"No, no of course not," Petunia and Vernon answered woodenly.

Looking at the muggle toddler, Albus ordered, "Don't taunt him so outlandishly while he's working. Trip him sometimes, or cause little accidents. Get your friends and push him around and make messes before he has to clean. It's always worse when you bother him near the end and he might hurt or frighten you again." Taking a deep breath, Albus considered the three sorry excuses for humanity. "You've all had an upsetting morning. You should have a family outing and go for a nice meal."

With another wave of his wand, Albus stepped back into the hallway and waited. Suddenly, the three muggles sprang into action. He could hear Petunia chattering and cooing to her obese husband and son as keys rattled and the front door opened and closed.

"Well, that's that," he murmured, turning to the unconscious child on the threshold of the cupboard. "You, Mr. Potter, are nothing but trouble." The boy began to stir, swiping ineffectively at the sticky trail of blood leading from his swollen lip. "_Episkey_," he said firmly, waving his hand over the child. "_Tergio_." Placing a vial of potion to the boy's mouth. "Drink," he ordered. The child choked and sputtered, but swallowed a fair amount of the potion. He set the vial aside. Now that the boy was clean, and for the most part, healed, only one thing was left. "Can't have you remembering this, now can I?" he chuckled. The boy opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Albus raised his wand again. "_Obliviate_."

The little wizard in the cupboard stared at him with wide, mismatched eyes, fear and anger warring for dominance. These details Albus noted in the few seconds before the child raised his hands and shouted, "No!"

A bright flash of white light sent the old man stumbling backward. The old man was surprised to find himself standing in what seemed to be the hallway of a muggle dwelling, as far as he could tell. Shaking his head did nothing to dispel the ringing in his ears, nor did it clear up the mystery of where he was and why. The tolling of a clock somewhere in the house shocked and alarmed him when he realized that eleven tones had sounded. He had to be before the Wizengamot any minute now. "_Damned Malfoy,_" he fumed under his breath as he apparated away.

KT KT KT KT KT

Severus couldn't completely hide his smirk when Dumbledore rushed into the courtroom looking more than a little flustered. This could only be good for their case, though the old headmaster had very little idea about how very involved in his downfall the newly-hired potions master actually was. A quick glance at Lucius told him that the Malfoy lord saw the same thing he did. It was all Severus could do to keep from rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Now that we are all present," Lucius Malfoy began, turning to address the collected Wizengamot members, "I would like to present my case against Headmaster Dumbledore, who has recently been stripped of his positions as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and Chief Warlock of this august body."

"Temporarily stripped of his titles," objected a harried looking wizard who shot to his feet from his place seated beside Albus Dumbledore.

"If you like," Lucius allowed, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he inclined his head toward Dumbledore.

"Mister…that is to say, _Professor_ Dumbledore's rebuttal will be heard _after_ Lord Malfoy finishes his presentation," scolded a wizened old wizard that Severus did not recognize. This was the man who'd taken Dumbledore's place and obviously held no lasting love for the meddling headmaster. "We've already started late due to your client's late arrival, Mr. Diggle," he groused.

Apparently timeliness was paramount to this group and it didn't matter who the accused was or what their many titles were or had been. This was getting better and better.

Dumbledore's legal representative made a sour face and nodded his head jerkily, retaking his seat.

With a nod of assent toward Lucius, the acting Chief Warlock ordered, "Present your case Lord Malfoy."

"Thank you, Lord Byerly," Lucius answered solemnly. Stepping toward the middle of the room so that he could address the Wizengamot body as well as Dumbledore, his solicitor, and the collected observers, Lucius began to speak. "I come before you this day after a year-long, uphill battle. Many of you remember my deceased father, Lord Abraxas Malfoy, and my late mother, Lady Colette Malfoy." The assemblage nodded and muttered a bit, shifting in their seats. "Sadly, my father's other wife, Lady Eveleen Malfoy, nee Potter, seems to have been forgotten."

Severus glanced around the room, stopping at Dumbledore who, while he somehow maintained his serene façade, still looked slightly desperate somehow. A louder murmuring could be heard now. Many of the audience and the Wizengamot sported a confused, angry look.

"I, however, have never forgotten my other mother, Eveleen Potter Malfoy, or my sister, Lucia Malfoy," Lucius went on. "I mourned their deaths and I mourn the deaths of my cousin James and his wife Lily, who were murdered this past October thirty-first. That is not the reason I am speaking before you, this day. No. I appear before you to charge that man," he turned and pointed accusingly at Dumbledore, "with the kidnapping and illegal incarceration of my second cousin known to you as Harry Potter."

There had been a few arguments regarding whether to use the child's legal name or the appellation given him by his father and repeated to the world at large by Dumbledore. In the end it seemed best to keep things as clear and simple as possible when speaking. The truly confusing legal wrangling done on paper could be as muddy and obfuscating as need be, but the Wizengamot and the general public needed to understand without a doubt who it was that had been maltreated so.

Lucius' words caused an eruption of chatter from both the collected Wizengamot members and the observers in the gallery. Severus noticed that Dumbledore was now engaged in an urgent consultation with his legal representative.

"I would address the court," the man announced, causing most of the chatter to drain away.

"Step forward, to be heard Mr. Diggle," Lord Byerly ordered.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Now then, Lord Malfoy, to begin with, while your father _was_ married to Miss Eveleen Potter, no Potter blood flows in your veins." The lawyer licked his lips and swallowed. It was clear that he was more than a little uneasy about his presentation. Nonetheless, he continued, "Perhaps, had she lived, you _might_ have had some small claim upon the Potter child. That is not the case, however." He cleared his throat and turned, looking away from Lucius. Severus didn't blame him. It looked as if Lucius was trying to light the man on fire with his gaze. "Lords, Ladies, and members of the Wizengamot, Professor Dumbledore is a revered member of our society and holds many weighty positions. The wizarding world owes him a debt of gratitude for seeing to the safety and care of one of our more important, though sadly, helpless citizens. Harry Potter is right where he belongs: safe with the only family he has left."

Mr. Diggle bowed to the Wizengamot members and then to Lucius and quickly returned to his seat next to Dumbledore.

If he hadn't been watching his employer so closely, Severus might have missed the fleeting frown that crossed Dumbledore's face at the mention of Iarfhlaith's family. A trickle of unease snaked down his spine as the wrinkled forehead furrowed in confusion and he continued his visual sweep of the hearing's participants.

Lucius had turned away from the assembled body for a moment. From Severus' vantage point, he could clearly see his old friend struggling to contain his rage. But Lucius Malfoy was known for his cold, calculated demeanor and he wouldn't be losing it now.

After a moment, the blond man turned and aimed an insulting bow at Dumbledore and his solicitor before bowing more deeply to the Chief Wizard. "I am quite sure that Mr. Diggle believes every word that he is saying, and it is even possible that the…_esteemed _headmaster also believes that statement. However, even if one chooses to accept blood ties over legal ties, Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Diggle are still incorrect. First and foremost, for blood ties, young Master Potter is first cousin, once removed from my wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy, as his grandmother, Dorea Black, is her father's sister. This also makes Andromeda Black Tonks his first cousin, once removed. Madam Longbottom," Lucius interrupted himself to address a stern, older woman seated among the Wizengamot grouping, "Master Potter would therefore be your second cousin, would he not?"

"He would," Madam Longbottom answered, turning to glare at Dumbledore.

"There is another among us who, while not as closely related, has a more valid legal tie to the child than even I or my wife does," Lucius announced. Whispers erupted and Severus braced himself. Dumbledore would not like this, but there was nothing he could do. He'd signed Severus to a ten-year contract with the stipulation that it be made fifteen if Severus so desired. Dumbledore was locked in, regardless of what Severus chose to do or say.

The court waited anxiously while Lucius surveyed the mum ling group. "Well?"Wizengamot Chief, Lord Byerly demanded.

"My apologies. I would draw this court's attention to this document, which was included along with the child, Iarfhlaith James Hearareth Potter's birth records." Lucius stepped forward and drew a sheaf of papers from his robes which he handed to the man."

Lord Byerly scanned the document murmuring, "Birth certificate…a _second_ father…but…" he gasped. However, Severus knew he'd never be able to say the king's name out loud. It was bound under a secrecy spell that prevented anyone from even thinking the name unless told by the king or allowed with his blessing. "Severus Snape, Godfather? Oh, and listed as _cousin_ to the late Lord Potter? Oh my…"

Severus stifled a smirk and tried to appear alarmed and confused. No doubt the look didn't sit well on his features.

"Impossible!" Dumbledore roared, shooting to his feet.

The Wizengamot Chief looked over the papers, shared them with some of the people nearby, and then stood, clearing his throat. "Everyone will remain seated and quiet while we get a document expert and someone from legal at St. Mungo's to come and verify the integrity of these papers."

While Lucius carefully avoided glancing his way, Severus could practically feel Dumbledore's hard stare as if he were trying to bore straight into his brain. Needless to say, Severus kept his gaze carefully averted to avoid any possibility of Legillimancy by his new employer. It was unlikely after the king's tuition, of course, but there was no need to take chances. He'd been seated off to the side and thankfully, was somewhat surrounded by a motley collection of observers, including Minerva McGonagall and Rubeus Hagrid who were seated a few rows back. Their attendance helped make Severus' presence seem more innocent than it was, for which he was grateful.

After a great deal of shuffling and low voiced consultation, two more men joined the audience and the Chief Wizard turned to address the court once again.

"These papers seem to be entirely in order and the signatures valid," he announced. "Potions Master Mr. Severus Snape, please come forward."

Severus stood and made his way to the floor of the courtroom, careful to keep a slightly confused look pasted to his face. "How can I help the Wizengamot, Lord Byerly?" he asked as he stepped in front of the old man. I'm afraid I don't remember being made Godfather to the infant Potter," he lied, adding, "though Lily Evans Potter was one of my dearest friends."

"You'll need checked for _obliviation_ I suppose," Lord Byerly growled. Turning to a man by the door, he ordered, "See to it, Mr. Powers."

Dumbledore stood and objected, "This is patently unnecessary. It is no secret that James Potter and Severus Snape were bitter enemies, Chief Lord Byerly . Before the babe's birth, it was common knowledge that Sirius Black, Lord Potter's best friend, was to be named Godfather. I would like very much to see those documents."

"You may accuse me all you like of falsifying legal documents, Mr. Dumbledore," Lucius told the old wizard evenly. "The laws are the laws. The facts will bear themselves out." He smiled coldly. "Of this, I have no doubt."

A fine gloss of sweat showed on Dumbledore's forehead, though one had to be looking to spot it. It became harder for the elder politician when Mr. Powers led a Healer into the chamber who stopped in front of Severus. Lucius, though nearby, was keeping his distance to avoid any possibility of collaboration or coercion.

"C-could you sit, please, Potions Master Snape?" the Healer asked diffidently. He wasn't very tall so it was easy to understand why he'd asked. With a flick of his wand, a polished wooden armchair appeared and Severus seated himself, earning a pleased smile from the timid Healer. While he couldn't recall the man's name, Severus had delivered a fair amount of potions to his office and could clearly remember the furnishings. He could feel the diagnostic spell waft over him and tried not to fidget. "Yes, yes," the Healer mumbled under his breath after waving his wand a few times. Turning to Byerly, the Healer nodded. "Potions Master Snape comes back positive for the _obliviate_ spell. I can't give an exact date of casting, but it was quite delicately done. It does indeed bear Headmaster Dumbledore's spell signature."

"Thank you, Healer Clagg."Turning toward Dumbledore and his solicitor, Lord Byerly spoke in a hard voice. "Will you surrender your wand for _prior incantato_? I think this court needs to know about the last five spells you've used. You may be seated Potions Master."

"Chief Wizard, it would be impossible to produce proof that my client cast that spell to delete Potions Master Snape's possible memory of allegedly being named Godfather to the Potter child," Solicitor Diggle objected feebly. Lord Byerly did not respond, though his gaze narrowed. After a brief, frenzied conference, the solicitor turned back to face the court. "Professor Dumbledore will cooperate, but begs the court the right to rebut and explain. Thank you."

After conjuring an obnoxious chintz armchair over the objection of the court along with Lucius, Dumbledore surrendered his wand with obvious reluctance. By the time everyone was once again situated, the resident expert, Gilbert Wimple, from the Committee on Experimental Charms had arrived. He wasted no time verifying the wand as having Dumbledore's magical signature most recently and prominently passing through it before casting _prior incatato_ upon it.

The first spell to emerge was, of course, the most recent, showing the chair in which Dumbledore was currently reclining. Immediately following, however, was an _obliviate_ followed by two healing spells and then yet another _obliviate_. It was all Severus could do to keep from grinning. Lucius had a genteelly surprised look on his face, but managed to contain his glee.

"I won't waste this body's time asking you the same questions twice, Mr. Dumbledore," Lord Byerly growled. "Healer Clagg, as you have become part of these proceedings, please watch the witness as Mr. Powers applies the Veritaserum. I'd like you to oversee his reaction and verify that he is both effected and safe during its usage." Several minutes went by as the truth serum was applied and given time to work. "Thank you. Please tell me your name."

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." It was difficult to tell from his seat if the old wizard truly was under the effect of the potion, but Severus knew that the Healer would be able to tell if he wasn't. It was standard for each Healer to be required to witness a person under Veritaserum twice a year in order to maintain his or her accreditation.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Kendra," Dumbledore answered evenly.

With a sharp nod, Lord Byerly leaned sideways and consulted with Augusta Longbottom briefly. "Now then, please tell this body where and upon whom you last cast the _obliviate_ spell."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond and then stopped as if the words would not come out of his mouth. When his brow furrowed, Severus knew something was wrong. Apparently it was obvious to Lord Byerly as well.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered immediately.

"What _is_ the problem, then?" the Wizengamot Chief snapped when nothing else was forthcoming.

"I...I remember arriving at the residence where I placed Harry Potter. Everything is blank after that."

A ball of dread formed in Severus' stomach.

"Can you tell us where this residence is located?"

"No."

Lucius, who was seated at the well of the court, to the right of Dumbledore's advocate and to Severus' lower left. As he glanced down at his old friend, he could see the fingers of his right hand white and straining as he gripped his cane. _So close…they were so close to finding the boy._

"Where is Harry Potter?" Lord Byerly demanded.

Dumbledore shook his head from side to side, agitation in every line of his face. "I don't know," he whispered hoarsely. "I left my office…something was wrong with the boy, something I had to attend to. I remember apparating away, but…" he trailed off, mouth working but no sound coming out. It was one of the most unpleasant things Severus could remember seeing in quite some time.

"What _do_ you remember from the time you left your office this morning?" Healer Clagg asked, stepping around in front of Dumbledore. Lord Byerly nodded sharply, understanding that the Healer had a great deal more experience with questioning under Veritaserum.

"I remember walking out to the gate so that I could apparate. After that, I have a vague memory of arriving in a muggle neighborhood." It was clear that he was both surprised and alarmed at the situation. For a moment, his eyes were distant, though still glassy from the potion. Dumbeldore's voice was high and anxious as he offered his halting answer. "There was a pair of quite spiteful muggles—an obnoxious muggle brat…dark red hair. The boy was injured and I waved my wand—after that…he put his hands out and…I remember a flash of white light, nothing more."He paused before adding, "I heard a clock toll and realized it was time for me to be in court. That's all."

Groaning quietly, Severus closed his eyes and leaned back, centering his thoughts. It really didn't matter what happened next for Dumbledore, thought whatever it was, it wouldn't be good. Only one thing mattered to Severus just now.

The Goblin King was going to be most displeased.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer: I only own this story premise, not the worlds or characters. I'm writing for my own entertainment and for those of you who are enjoying this along with me.

Chapter Sixteen

"It's not enough," Jareth snarled. "Make his life _hell_, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sire!"

"You bet, Sire!"

"We're on it, your Kingliness!"

"_Well?_ _GO_!" he roared.

Had he not interrupted, every blasted one of them would have spouted off promises. None of them required more specific instructions. They knew who it was that they were to torment and they knew the rules: Don't get hurt; Don't get caught; Don't physically hurt any creature aside from their target.

The gloves were off. Not a single corner of that castle—or any place else for that matter—would be safe from the creative malevolence of his devoted, beloved little goblins. Unlike normal goblin hordes, these had been children once, hurt and abused, who had been saved by Jareth. They'd been spoiled and nurtured, but encouraged to be children. They were the true lost boys, lost souls, really, who couldn't face the heavy burden of remaining human and growing up. He cared for them, made sure they were safe, happy, and healthy.

Their childlike nature did not preclude intelligence or understanding, however. They'd all watched the memory crystal along with Jareth and Severus and realized that Dumbledore had once again cost them their cherished prince. Dumbledore would never have more than a moment or two of peace for the rest of his days.

He would have _some_ quiet moments; otherwise he'd never relax enough to despair when his tranquility was ripped away.

A glance at Severus caused Jareth to share a smirk with the younger man. "You will, of course, show your memories?"

"Naturally," Severus grinned. "It gives me much to look forward to as well as relieving some of the pressure. Needless to say, the old goat will be difficult at best for the foreseeable future." Severus paused and then added, "Within the bounds of his supervised probation."

"I can't believe he retained his position as headmaster. What kind of society-what kind of Board of Governors allows a man accused of his crimes, much less found guilty of those crimes, to remain in charge of children?"

"The problem is, Your Majesty, that he is a powerful wizard and was rightfully awarded the Order of Merlin for overcoming the Dark Lord Grindewald, regardless of their past relationship…secret relationship…" Severus shook his head and trailed off. Apparently the image of Dumbledore involved in any kind of tryst was insidious to his thought processes. "He will always be revered by a wide swath of wizard-kind. They feel safer knowing he is at the school. It just doesn't occur to them that he might harm any of _their_ little angels. The Boy-Who-Lived is a special case, after all."

With an inarticulate growl, Jareth turned from the throne room signaling Severus to follow. As he poured the two of them a drink, Jareth thought over the events of the last year or so. For every step forward they'd made in finding Iarfhlaith, they seemed to stumble two steps back, be it by design or by accident. That was not to suggest, however, that the old man hadn't suffered for every small victory he'd celebrated.

"What concessions has Lucius managed force out of the Board of Governors to justify keeping Dumbledore in the headmaster's chair?" he asked, handing Severus his drink.

"Every member of the staff will be taking a _Memorium Revealo _ potion. Dumbledore will be required to pay a monetary fine for each _obliviate_ proven. The memory of the casting has to be offered as evidence and someone from the ministry will be witnessing and assessing the penalty for each infraction." Jareth couldn't contain his satisfied smile which widened when Severus added, "In the unfortunate event that a more severe criminal act is discovered, or the number reaches and surpasses certain benchmarks, community service or incarceration could be the result."

The two men sat quietly for long moments, savoring companionship along with the possibility of seeing Albus Dumbledore behind bars.

"Who is holding the bets?" Jareth asked shrewdly into the still silence.

Severus looked surprised at first and then abashed. "Director Ragnoc has designed the spread…each bet lets you choose how many obliviates the old man cast, up whom, most or least, the cumulative total, and whether or not he does actual jail time," he confessed, a faint blush pinking his cheekbones.

"Hmm," Jareth murmured sipping his drink. "I'd place a bet of my own, but I wouldn't want to skew the results," he smirked.

KT KT KT KT KT

"Don't cry, Diddums darling, mummy only wants to keep you safe," the woman wheedled as she wrestled the fat four year old into the tight confines of the child's car seat.

"Why doesn't the freak have to have one?" the obese boy whined, pointing a pudgy finger at Iarfhlaith who sat quietly on the far side of the back seat, belt buckled, and pressed as far away from the other boy as he could get while still remaining in the car.

"He's not as special as you are, my handsome little man," she simpered, fighting to press the metal tongue into its buckle and remain smiling at the same time. The resultant expression on her face suggested pain, as far as Iarfhlaith could tell, but Duddykins wasn't paying attention any longer. She'd pressed a cookie into his grubby paw and he was focused entirely upon consuming it. "We don't care if he's safe or not, love, just as long as you are!"

Iarfhlaith rolled his eyes while Jasper turned his back on the other boy. "Where are we going, Prince?" Jasper asked, looking around with interest as the car stopped for a long pause at the stop sign of the street that intersected Privet Drive. He shrugged, having no answer to give his pixie friend. All he knew for sure was that the woman was trying to decide.

"Don't forget my ice cream, Mummy!" Duddykins shouted, pounding on the car door to get his mother's attention. "And _HE_ doesn't get one, right Mummy?" he sneered nastily.

"Of course, precious. Mummy didn't forget," she oozed, pressing the gas and accelerating past the turn toward their house. "We'll go to the fountain with the play yard and he'll just have to watch you eat yours in the sun. And when Nursery School starts, you can show all the other children how much better you are than him. How's that popkin?"

"Okay, Mummy," Duddykins answered happily, turning briefly to make an ugly face at Iarfhlaith. A few moments later, both boys were alone in the play park facing one another. "Mummy's getting me a _Space Ace_ lunchbox and backpack and you just get a ratty old paper bag. Hah!"

With Jasper stiff fuming and muttering on his left shoulder, it was all Iarfhlaith could do not to give in to the fat boy's ribbing, but that would be a mistake. If he dared even open his mouth to argue, the other boy would whine to his mother and Iarfhlaith would be sent to the car and lose this oh so rare visit beyond the confines of Number Four Privet Drive. Worse than that, he'd be locked in his cupboard the minute they reached the house and then the big man would give him a few more bruises to add to his growing collection.

Looking away, Iarfhlaith shrugged. "I don't care. I don't even want a poxy old _Space Ace_ lunch box." He smiled wickedly and leaned toward Duddykins. "I'd much rather have _Bigfoot_ anyway."

With that, the larger boy shoved Iarfhlaith hard, pushing against his left shoulder and sending him sprawling into the dirt. "I'm gonna make you stay home!" Duddykins shrieked, his face purpling just as his father's often did. "Mummy! He's being mean to me! Mummy! I want _Space Ace _and Bigfoot, Mummy, not him!"

"I don't even want to go to your stupid, poncy preschool!" Iarfhlaith shouted to the retreating figure of the larger boy. His hands stung and there were rocks embedded in his palms.

"What kind of a play yard has sharp rocks all over the place?" Jasper groused, holding tight to Iarfhlaith's shirt sleeve so that he could peer closely at the damage to Iarfhlaith 's palm.

"It's a load of rubbish, is all. I wish I wasn't here. I wish you and I could go to the island and that pretty lady's preschool like I promised her I would."

The last syllable had barely passed his lips when an odd feeling passed over Iarfhlaith. He pulled Jasper close, glad he'd been hanging onto him already. The world felt…or was it sounded? Well, the noise of life had gone for a moment, then the color. All was quiet and still for the beat of one echoing instant.

He didn't know if he'd squeezed his eyes shut or not, but suddenly, he felt again, and heard, and realized everything that had been gone for just that brief flash of time. Everything was just fine again.

Mostly.  
"Prince," Jasper whispered into the soft silence of the dimness they found themselves in. "Where are we?"

**A/N:** I know this is abysmally short and I'm REALLY sorry. It's just that this bit seemed to be it for this chapter. The next one is sure to be much longer and hopefully, much sooner, too.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

A/N: After the last chapter, a reader asked me why Severus didn't recall Lily's sister. I couldn't remember but knew I'd had a solid reason for that. After re-reading a bit, I did remember the wards. I never say if it's the Fidelus charm, exactly, but I do mention in Chapter 13 that Dumbledore has placed wards over Harry and his family so that he can't be found, and by extension the Dursleys can't be found either. But I'll be sure to go over that in the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own the HP or Labyrinth worlds.

Chapter Seventeen

"Prince? Hey, Prince! You okay?"

Though he was awake and uninjured, Iarfhlaith was trying to figure out what happened. Jasper's insistent tone reminded him that he wasn't alone.

"I'm okay, Jasper. Where are we, do you know?" For some reason, Iarfhlaith felt a little odd and dizzy. There had been that odd tingling right after Duddykins had pushed him down, now that he thought about it. It was like his body had fallen through a bubble. Then, he was mad and his hands hurt.

"You don't look okay, Prince. You look all funny. I think you should lie down for a little while. That was some big wish you made."

"Yeah," Iarfhlaith agreed, his voice a bit thin and breathy. "Yeah, the wish," he mumbled. He _had _made a wish—two of them, really. Now that he thought about it, Iarfhlaith _was_ feeling pretty tired. "'M gonna jus' take a kip." His words came out slurred and a faint prickle of alarm pushed back a little of the fatigue that tugged at him and he pushed himself upright.

The room they were in was dark, but their eyes had had time to adjust after the unceremonious landing which had left Iarfhlaith sprawled just as he had been when the large boy had pushed him. There was carpet under him and not dirt and rocks, however, and even in the heavily shadowed room, Iarfhlaith could tell that the colors were bright and varied.

He'd apparently landed upon a circular rug situated just a foot in front of a wooden rocking chair. Scattered around the room, leaving a wide area for the rug, were several small tables and chairs. On the other side, a few feet beyond the chair, there was a teacher's desk like he'd seen earlier while visiting the preschool classroom with Duddykins and Ma'am. All told, this room had quite a bit in common with that one, at least as far as he could make out in the dim light. Locating the windows, it was clear that it was nighttime…or possibly morning, but early. Sometimes he'd had to get up very early to do outside chores before the neighbors would see. The time that he'd had to stay out overnight in the shed it had been dark a long time before Ma'am and the big man had opened the door.

It didn't matter now, though, because he was tired—so tired.

"I think we'll be okay," he managed, his brief shot of energy fading away. "I'm so sleepy…gonna just close my eyes a minute."

"Good idea, Highness. You rest. That was big magic you did and I bet you're really knackered. I'll keep watch. You'll be safe, I swear it," Jasper assured him as he waved his little stick over Iarfhlaith.

Iarfhlaith vaguely registered a little flash of light as Jasper spoke. It happened like that sometimes, when Jasper said something extra-important, like a serious promise. He knew, no matter what, Jasper would always look after him. And now, wherever they were, they were away from those people and maybe those wizard-wards. For the first time in a very long time, Iarfhlaith felt a surge of hope.

"Jasper," he croaked, settling down on his side and tucking an arm under his head. "Soon 's I'm better 'nuf to wish again. We'll find Daka."

Whether or not Jasper heard or understood, or in fact, had anything to add, Iarfhlaith wouldn't know. The warmth from the magic of his Daka's memory along with Jasper's pixie dust eased him to sleep with a smile on his face.

KT KT KT KT KT

Dropping down into his throne, Jareth smirked to himself, very pleased after sending another small contingent of goblins through the Hogwarts portal. The havoc-wreaking team they were replacing should be along any time now. He leaned back against one side, brushing his dark, feathery cape aside and hooking one leg over the opposite arm. None of the goblins could stay Aboveground longer than a few days, but they could all return there in revolving groups. They were children, after all, children frozen in time, yes, but children all the same. Too much time Above and they'd be forced to change. They pranked and teased Dumbledore for a handful of days and then came home to rest and plan even more tricks for the old manipulator.

Though the reasons for targeting Dumbledore were serious and upsetting, the goblins were benefiting from it immensely. They had all been despondent with the death of Lily and James and the loss of Iarfhlaith. So much so, in fact, that Jareth had turned to his parents for advice. The healers they suggested were of little use since most were somewhat frightened by the goblins. Eventually, Ragnoc had told him that a battle always perked his troops up after a loss or bad news. Apparently that was why the goblins were such a warring race—war cheered them but caused loss. It was a vicious cycle. Given the differences between Underground goblins and those Above, they warred in mischief, not in blood. Thankfully, Jareth had a ready enemy for them.

"Sire!"

The urgency in Severus' smooth voice caused Jareth to bolt upright and grip the arms of his throne, his riding crop pressed into his palm so tightly that the small crystal atop it soon began to cut off circulation to his wrist. His Potions Master cousin was not easily upset.

"What is it Severus? Is Iarfhlaith…" he couldn't think of any way to finish his question and stay sane. So far, they knew his son to be alive, if nothing else. Surely, he would have felt or sensed something otherwise?

"Something's happened, Your Majesty. Iarfhlaith is no longer under the Headmaster's wards," the younger man reported breathlessly.

"Come," Jareth ordered as he stood and headed out of the Goblin Throne Room. His mind was leaping at the possibilities, though he forced himself to wait. Behind him, he heard the excited shouts of the returning goblins followed by the garbled buzz and chirp of conversation. The instant the two men were behind his closed study doors, Jareth demanded, "What happened? Where is my son?" When Severus opened his mouth to speak, Jareth held up a hand to stop him. "Get us a drink, Severus, and then start from the beginning. Take a breath." He wanted to know now—before now, actually—but Severus needed to think, to review and tell the entire series of events that he knew or else important information could be missed. As anxious as he was, Jareth was too experienced to rush. Even the smallest detail could change everything.

Lost in thought, Jareth conjured a crystal and began to weave it through his fingers, tapping his riding crop against his right thigh. The quiet, muffled sound of heavy crystal set upon polished wood shook him out of his reverie. He inclined his head to Severus and lifted a brow, waiting.

After what amounted to several years of reasonably close association, Severus had finally become secure enough in his position as part of Jareth's family that he had already seated himself, drink in hand.

Clearing his throat, the younger royal began to speak. "I'd just left the dungeons this morning, on my way to consult with Madam Pomfrey concerning her potions stores when I happened upon the headmaster." One side of his mouth quirked in a fleeting smirk. "He had apparently stepped through a stone step in need of repair. At the same time, his hand had landed in a wad of sticky gum or sap on the handrail. Must have been Peeves…"

Jareth snorted in response. "Who else would do such a thing?"

"Of course I stopped to offer my aid."

"Of course," Jareth agreed, his attempt at commiseration turning into a spiteful snicker.

"As it happened," Severus went on, his smirk undeniable now. "Somehow, the hem of his robe had become stuck to the stair behind him and he was quite tangled." His expression sobered as he continued. "Suddenly, an alarm sounded from somewhere on his person…Possibly a medallion of some kind as it was at chest level." He stopped to sip his drink. "All the color seemed to leech from his face and he gasped. He grabbed my arm. His eyes looked wild…" Severus cleared his throat and took another long drink from his tumbler. "_"The wards, Severus, something has happened to the wards"_, he told me. It was as if he really didn't remember his anger and distrust toward me. I released him from the various little traps and he didn't even seem to notice, though I have no doubt he'll realize it eventually. He took off at a dead run toward his office. I followed close on his heels right up the stairs. The gargoyle had leapt away before we even rounded the corner. The second he entered his office, he rushed up to a collection of odd trinkets and statuettes. One of them stood still while the others moved. It seemed to flash red, but so slowly that it took several moments to tell. He began to mumble as he inspected it. _"The wards haven't fallen, but he has completely left even the outer wards. I still have no idea where they are…the little monster turned my own spell on me. I should have known after he did the same to Tom. He's quite wiped any recollection of where he was and who with. I can't even go and speak to his keepers to gather information about where he might have gone. Not until the wards fail entirely. That could take days, weeks, who knows?" _ After that, he moved to his chair where the goblins apparently added a whoopee cushion to the seat. I left after he reached into his bowl of lemon drops and they melted around his fingers as he seemed to have nothing else to say."

Finishing his drink, Jareth moved to place the tumbler back on the drink tray and began to pace, tapping his crop against his leg rhythmically. The steady movement helped him think somehow.

"You say these wards seem to be impenetrable?" They'd had this discussion many times, but Jareth just needed to go over his facts again.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but I can't even remember Lily's sister's name—only that she had one, which is odd enough in itself. The _Fidelus_ charm takes any pertinent information relating to a specific secret and removes all knowledge of it from everyone but a specific secret keeper and those with whom the secret keeper shares the secret. It's an odd and particular spell, which has caused all number of problems. Lily and James had that spell cast over their home, as you'll recall." Jareth shot him a half-hearted glare. "The thing is, Sire, he added other wards to it. He, Dumbledore, was the only one who knew the secret, and on top of it, he'd added wards for intent and then anti-magical creature wards. That had to be so that the Gringotts goblins and the Potter house elves couldn't find the prince. Only those within the wards when they were cast would be able to remain there." The dark man was quiet for a moment. "I can only assume that the child passed outside of those wards somehow and can't return, or has chosen not to."

"Under what circumstances will we or Dumbledore be able to find him or where he was kept?" Jareth asked after a moment. He returned back to his chair and flopped into it, hooking his left leg over the arm.

"The wards themselves have to collapse. Possibly, this will happen after he's been outside of them for a certain time. Otherwise, I really don't know the parameters of Dumbledore's wards, but I intend to go back and grill him as soon as he calms down. I have been here such a short time that very little time has passed Aboveground."

"Yes, of course," Jareth agreed, propping his elbow on the nearest armrest and cupping his chin in his palm to think. After a moment, he said, "All I can do is have the Aboveground goblins and elves search for him. He would be in England, do you think?" he queried, turning to look at Severus speculatively.

"I can't imagine the scenario that would cause Lily's prissy, opinionated sister and husband to live anywhere else, assuming that's who he's with. From things the old man had said in the past, it seems likely. While I don't remember much, certain things remain. If it's her, they have be somewhere in Great Britain, though I feel sure they'd never stray to Scotland or Ireland. I doubt they'd even consider Wales, though they might, but only under duress," Severus offered.

"Yes. We'll start there in that case." Jareth sat up. "We'll begin in Meridian and work out way out. Good, Severus, good." He stood with Severus following immediately. "We'll find him. We're closer than we have been since they died. It's only a matter of time now."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

The door to her classroom was open when Sarah arrived. That almost never happened and it made her slightly uneasy. After a quick look around, she tucked her keys back into her purse and slipped it into her desk drawer, closing it firmly.

After a quick circuit of the room, she shrugged to herself. There must be an innocent reason. It wasn't important now as the scent of fresh coffee tugged at her from the staff lounge. Who was she to deny the siren song of caffeine in the morning? Maybe she'd find the maintenance man while she was there and ask if anything had happened overnight.

A furtive movement further down the hall caught her attention for a fleeting instant. Was that a student this early? Well, there was an early morning program in the portable behind the building, but those children were rigidly policed. Perhaps someone had a new student. Her own morning class would start soon with a few early birds for breakfast, but not _this_ early.

"Is anyone there?" she called. When no response came, Sarah took a few steps toward the little alcove where she'd spied the reddish flash.

"All right, Miss Williams?"

The deep voice of the on-call maintenance man took her by surprise and she gasped. "Oh, Mr. Lewes, you startled me!"

"My apologies, Miss. I thought you heard me," he pardoned himself.

"No worries, it's quite all right. I just thought I saw a student down the hall, but it doesn't look like it. Is Mr. Reeves ill?" She had no doubt that the elderly gentleman had been some sort of butler before he moved to the island. He was just too refined to have been a building super all his life. There was just something about him…

A door slammed further down the hall and Sarah whipped around. Mr. Lewes caught her before she could overbalance herself. "Do calm down, miss. I promise that you're safe here." He smiled teasingly at her and offered her his elbow. "I suppose it's a bit silly the lengths a crotchety old man such as myself will go to in order to lure a pretty young thing to share morning tea with him."

Sarah blushed hotly, feeling more than a little ridiculous, though she was touched by the older gentleman's efforts to soothe her. "Yes it is, Mr. Lewes," she snapped back, mock-sternly, though she laid her fingers on his arm. "All you had to do was ask. And I'll thank you not to refer to one of my dear friends as crotchety and old."

"My apologies once again, Miss Sarah," he answered, his weathered cheeks showing a hint of pink. "I can't imagine what I was thinking to say such a thing."

The two continued to gently tease one another as he turned her down the hall to the staff lounge. It took more will power than Sarah would have thought to keep her from glancing over her shoulder the entire way.

KT KT KT KT KT

"Whew, that was close, Prince. Was that her?" Jasper asked from his perch atop Iarfhlaith's head.

"I think so," Iarfhlaith, whispered back as he retreated into the small alcove as the two older people turned the corner.

"D'ya think she'll remember you?" the pixie asked as he ate his portion of pilfered shortbread they'd found in the classroom.

"Dunno, it's been three years. Should I just…what should I do, Jasper? You've been around a lot longer than me. What do you think I should do?"

Jasper appeared to consider the question carefully, rubbing his chin with the back of his free hand as he floated in front of Iarfhlaith. "I don't think you should give her your real name. If she remembers you, she'll know it's not the right name. If she doesn't…well, we'll just go on from there."

Iarfhlaith nodded in agreement, but then looked intently at his little friend. "Come here, Jasper, get on my shoulder." The pixie frowned but did as he was told.

"I think it's too soon, Prince. You should wait awhile," Jasper cautioned, though he stood on Iarfhlaith's shoulder and grabbed a fistful of long red hair, holding tightly.

"No, I want to go now." Iarfhlaith closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists. "I wish I could get home to the Underground and be with my Daka."

For one deep, shuddering moment, it felt like his whole body wobbled from the inside out. He could see his father's face, there in front of him. Reaching out to him, Iarfhlaith called urgently, "Daka! I'm here, Daka!" His father looked tired, then shocked, and then…nothing. Everything was cold, then hot, then just purple. From somewhere far away, Iarfhlaith heard Jasper calling his name.

"Prince? Your Highness? Can you hear me?" A faint tapping on his cheek signaled Jasper's urgency. It was the worst kind of crime for him to actually touch Iarfhlaith, according to Jasper, so he must be very worried indeed to actually hit him on the face. It didn't matter that Jasper's taps felt like the wings of a moth against his cheek; his friend would be full of remorse that he'd done such a thing.

"'S okay, Jasper. Thanks for waking me, I 'preciate you doing that. We could get in trouble if we stay here too long. So what happened?" It took a supreme effort of will on his part not to cry or celebrate, though he very much wanted to do both all at the same time. He hadn't made it to the Underground, but he _had_ seen his Daka, for the first time in forever.

"I think we almost made it, Sire, but it was too soon. And now, it's gonna be a few days before you can try again. Your magic is tired and won't work right. You're too small to be away for so long from the Underground."

He couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes, no matter how hard he tried. "Did you see him, Jasper?" he asked with a sniffle. "Did you see my Daka?"

"I did," Jasper answered solemnly. "I think he saw us, too, Prince."

Iarfhlaith nodded. "I think so, too," he agreed in a quiet voice, unable to stop the silent tears completely. "How long was I…like that?"

Jasper fluttered up and tilted his head to the side. "I really don't know, but not terribly long. You just don't have the oomph yet. But you did good. It was good to see him—to see home." Iarfhlaith offered a watery smile, matched perfectly by the tearful smile on Jasper's face as he added, "There's a lot of people and kids down that hall. We're gonna need to decide what to do. I think…"

"What?"

"I think if this is a preschool like the one we visited with Fat-boy, we should go back there. If the lady is the one you wished about in the first place, maybe we can stay here long enough for the king to find us. Maybe she'll remember you," Jasper suggested hopefully.

"Okay," Iarfhlaith agreed, carefully considering Jasper's advice. "What should I call myself? And will she see you?"

"Hmm." Jasper zipped closer and then backed up, winking in and out like a flickering light bulb. Tugging a lock of Iarfhlaith's hair over his left eye—the green one—Jasper waved his magic stick at the hank of hair to encourage it to stay. "Now, I'll just do this," he waved the stick one more time and became transparent. "See? You can still see me, but only if you know I'm here. How's that?"

"That's good. Um, I'm not sure how to spell my real name…so I think I should tell the lady my name is…" he stopped to consider it for a moment and then came up with the perfect name. "Jasper Prince. Okay? My name is Jasper Prince," he announced happily.

"Well, hello there, Jasper Prince!" At the sound of the vaguely familiar voice, Iarfhlaith whipped around, nearly unseating Jasper who ducked under his long hair and grabbed his left ear. "I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Sarah Williams, but you can call me Miss Sarah, since I'm sure you'll be in my class." She leaned down and took his right hand into hers, shaking it once and dropping it. "It's all right, Jasper, don't be embarrassed. Lots of people practice what they're going to say when they're nervous. I do it myself," she confided, slipping a hand between his shoulder blades and urging him forward. "Come along, I'll bet there's toast and juice in the classroom. You're not the only early bird, I'm sure." Just before they reached the crowd milling in front of the classroom doorway, she stopped and looked down at him intently. "I know you must've come in for a summer visit, but I can't help but think we've met before then…" Iarfhlaith opened his mouth to tell her, but anything he might have said was drowned out by piping voices drawing her away.

"Miss Sarah! Miss Sarah!"

"Hello boys and girls! Let me get through to the door and well go have some breakfast. This is Jasper! Be sure to treat him nicely, please. Now make a line so we can all have some toast sticks. And look here, scrambled eggs!"

With a sigh, Iarfhlaith joined his new classmates in the line. Breakfast sounded good. The shortbread had taken the edge off, but he couldn't remember the last warm meal he'd had. Somehow, he'd find a way to let the lady know who he was, or if he couldn't, he'd bide his time until he could wish again. For now, he could eat, maybe even play, and he'd seen his Daka. When he had time, he'd think about that, maybe even cry about that, but right this minute, he was safe and little bit closer to home.

KT KT KT KT KT

"Severus! _SEVERUS_!" When no response came, Jareth hurled the crystal as hard as he could at the wall, nearly winging a nervous goblin as he dived out of the way, taking an alarmed chicken with him.

The small crystal seemed to shatter and then reassemble itself almost instantly, bouncing back to the startled monarch.

"On my way, Sire," Severus' rich baritone replied the moment the crystal sphere touched Jareth's gloved hand.

Stunned, Jareth arched an eyebrow as he studied the curiosity. "Well, _that_ doesn't happen every day," he murmured. It was obvious to him that Severus' bond to Jareth and their family was beginning to outstrip his wizarding heritage.

Closing his eyes, Jareth leaned back and closed his eyes, picturing Iarfhlaith's intent face as he'd seen it before it had flickered away. As he reviewed the incomplete wish, he brought to mind every facet of what he'd seen.

Iarfhlaith had looked waxen and tired—too tired to be wishing again so soon. His magic had to be much weaker than it should have been—than it would have been if he'd been raised with a family member and had spent the right amount of time in the Underground. But wait…Jareth's brow furrowed. He'd had a pixie on his shoulder. How had that happened? When Severus arrived he'd put the memory in a crystal and they'd look at it together.

A long few moments later, Severus stalked into the Goblin Throne Room. "Come," Jareth ordered as he rose and led the other man down the hall and into his study.

Severus stood until Jareth seated himself and then, at Jareth's nod, took a seat across from him. Tapping his riding crop on his thigh, Jareth organized his thoughts.

"Iarfhlaith made another wish," he announced finally. Severus, bless him, leaned forward, eyes widening slightly, all the while keeping his mouth closed and waiting for all of the information. With a flick of his wrist, a medium sized crystal ball appeared in his palm. "Here is my memory. Perhaps the two of us can suss out where or how he is from it. I'll slow the time as much as possible without marring the memory."

Without taking his eyes off of the crystal, Severus nodded sharply and leaned closer as if afraid he might miss some important detail if he moved away. Jareth tossed the glass ball up and allowed it to expand slightly as the memory began.

The image of a wan Iarfhlaith appeared in front of them, his eyes tightly shut, with a sparkling little pixie perched upon his far shoulder. The pixie's hair was nearly the same shade of red as Iarfhlaith's. That he touched any part of the boy spoke of a close relationship to Jareth and it eased some of the fear and worry in his heart. His child hadn't been completely alone in the world. He'd had a tiny piece of the Underground with him all this time.

"_I wish I could get home to the Underground and be with my Daka," _ Iarfhlaith said firmly, his words clear and strong telling of the years that had passed.

The child's eyes opened and Jareth nearly wept as the wide, mismatched eyes locked on his own.

"_Daka! I'm here, Daka!" _the boy called, his frantic voice breaking as the memory Iarfhlaith reached out to him.

The memory seemed to freeze for a moment, then wobble, and then Iarfhlaith was gone as if he hadn't been there at all.

~~!~~

**A/N**

Thanks for being so patient with me :o) I'll try to keep the chapters coming, but we all know how real life can be. And if you're looking for Remus and Sirius, they'll be along eventually.


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